


(out of the shadows) into the light

by catthecoder



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Falling In Love, Hurt, Romance, Secrets, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Verbal Abuse, Violence, betty is a badass, injuries, prejudices, shadowhunter!Betty, warlock!Jughead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2020-06-03 00:08:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 143,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19452340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catthecoder/pseuds/catthecoder
Summary: If anybody asked Betty whether she was satisfied with her life, her answer would be yes. Well, unless she over-thought the question, or her mother was around. Deep down, underneath the carefully-crafted mask that was a combination of an obedient soldier, a fierce Shadowhunter and a perfect daughter, Betty’s life was anything but exciting. Or had been. Because honestly, who thought that Archie’s small mess up would lead her to the man that would turn her entire world upside down?or a Shadowhunters!AU I've been dying to read, but had to write myself (I'm not complaining)





	1. chapter i

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a couple of disclaimers before we get started:  
> 1) This is a Shadowhunter!AU, meaning that our dear Riverdale characters appear in their universe. And even though I took many liberties with said universe, some of the plot points, scenes, characterisations will be similar (or heavily influenced in some cases). Just throwing this out there, to let y'all know I'm not trying to steal/copy the show's plot.  
> 2) You do not need to be familiar with the Shadowhunters/Mortal Instruments universe to be able to read and enjoy this story. I’ve tried my best to explain most of the stuff. Saying that, not everything is included in the first chapter.  
> 3) This work will include descriptions of violence, blood and injuries, therefore the Mature rating. If in any chapter the descriptions get more detailed/gruesome, I'll make sure to add a trigger warning into the beginning notes and update the tags.  
> 4) If you don’t want any spoilers, skip this part (it’s not anything major, just wanted to mention this) - being a huge Bughead and Malec shipper, I couldn’t imagine writing this AU with Bughead based on any other couple. And since their sexualities are quite a big deal plot and character wise, I just wanted to clarify that the choice to write Betty as Alec and therefore change Alec’s gender (and sexuality) didn’t come from a place of hate, but from a place of love and appreciation of the couple.  
> 5) I suppose that’s all, so please, enjoy! xx

The constant flow of chattering young adults on the busy street didn’t throw Betty off the mission even for a second. Her eyes were on her target – Reginald Mantle – tall dark-haired man with a strong build. She had been tailing him for three blocks now, always making sure to keep her distance. She didn’t want to spook him after all; they needed to capture him alive, and if he sensed something wrong, he might end up doing something irrational. 

And neither of them wanted to deal with that.

Betty’s eyes flickered to the top of a building on her left where the familiar blur of red caught her attention. But she wasn’t the only one who noticed the out-of-the-place movement – the man took a sharp right turn, escaping the crowds and lurking eyes of the busy street, in favour of the shadows of a dark narrow alley.

Betty didn’t hesitate for a second; her arms instinctively reached down to her belt, pulling a small silver knife from its pocket and throwing it with a confident precision that she had acquired over the years. She heard a silent hiss, quickly followed by the tell-tale clink of the blade hitting the wall behind the man.

“I suggest you don’t move or the next one will leave you with a bit more than a cut,” Betty said as she stepped into the shadows. The man listened, his whole body coming to a halt. He didn’t make an attempt to turn to face her, nor did he put his hands above his head.

“I don’t want any trouble,” he said, shaking his head lightly. Betty almost let a chuckle escape her mouth – she sure as _heaven_ didn’t believe him for a second.

“I’m glad to hear that,” she hummed, playing along. Archie should be here any second now, jumping him from the side and cuffing him, so they could take him back to the Institute with tons of time to spare. 

The mission was planned out to the smallest detail – Betty would distract Reginald so Archie could arrest him; they had done a dozen similar missions already. They even took Cheryl with them today as an extra reinforcement, not wanting to risk anything tonight. Their target was a high-ranking member of the Gargoyles, a rogue gang of Shadowhunters led by none other than Hiram Lodge. Caution and precision were of the essence.

Which is why Betty felt a small wave of anxiety crash over her body when there was no sign of Archie anywhere. She took three quick deep breaths to calm and ground herself and rethink the plan. There were about a dozen feet between her and the target, which played to her advantage. If he tried anything, her knives or Cheryl’s arrows would be quicker than his running. 

But she needed to get closer to him if she wanted to cuff him, meaning he could choose to attack then. Her close combat skills were good, she was small and quick, but she wasn’t sure if this was a fight she could win. The guy was built similarly to Archie, meaning that he might fight in a similar way, which could give her an upper hand –

“Your back-up got lost?” Reginald chuckled. He was now facing Betty, having turned around while she was distracted by coming up with a different strategy. He clearly must have sensed her hesitation and decided to take advantage of it.

“I don’t need back-up,” Betty smirked with pretend-confidence. She would be damned if she let him know he was right. Her fingers itched to reach for her knives, but she couldn’t do it, _not yet._ Not with his eyes cautiously watching her every move, his entire body tense and ready to fight or flee if given an opportunity. 

“No? Then what about _little red riding hood_ pointing her arrow at me from across the street? Or that ginger boy flirting shamelessly with some raven-haired beauty just around the corner?” he teased with a smirk on his lips and coldness in his eyes.

Betty’s blood started boiling almost immediately. That’s where Archie was? Flirting with some girl? Didn’t he realise how much work and preparation it took for them to get this close to their target? How important it was to capture him? And wasn’t he supposed to be glamorized so mundanes wouldn’t notice him? 

Her thoughts distracted her for few seconds which was enough for the man to reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. With a devilish smile on his lips, he pressed a button and took a few steps forward.

Without even realising she did it, Betty sent a pair of knives flying in his direction, but he was already one step ahead. The seraph blade glowing dimly in his hand was met with the sharp iron of her knives, sending them flying further into the alley instead of his shoulders. He stepped to the side just in time to evade a red arrow that swished through the air.

By that time, Betty already had to duck away from his quick attacks, taking a step back with each evasion. She felt a mix of adrenaline and anxiety pumping through her veins, the two aspects balancing each other and keeping her from doing something extremely irrational.

She wanted to reach for her seraph blade to give herself at least a chance to retaliate; but the tube was strapped to the back of her belt and she couldn’t afford to lose her balance or coordination by trying to grab it. Instead, whenever she saw an opening, she went for her throwing knives – but with the lack of space between them, throwing them wouldn’t do nearly enough damage to stop him.

Betty felt herself getting tired quickly – this was completely different from battling demons or training back at the Institute. This was fighting another Shadowhunter, one who received the same training as her, but had many more years of experience under his belt. 

As the swings of his blade became heavier and more furious, Betty was forced to take bigger steps back. The coolness of the wall that her back hit came to no surprise to her, but it surely brought another wave of anxiety. 

He aimed for her head next, Betty ducking to the side just moments before his blade came to contact with the exposed bricks behind her with a shrieking sound. But that wasn’t the only sound coming from the alley – a swooshing noise behind Reginald’s back accompanied by golden sparks caught both of their attentions. 

Reginald went for one more swing, the blade aiming straight for her neck, but stopping mere inches before coming to the contact with her skin. “Better luck next time,” he teased as he took three steps back, letting the golden glow embrace his entire body.

Betty reacted immediately, both of her hands reaching for knives and throwing them at the man’s legs, but it was too late. The portal disappeared as quickly as it appeared, leaving nothing but a couple of loose sparks hitting the ground at its wake. 

Betty clenched her hands, her nails digging into her palms as she applied higher pressure until she felt the familiar sting of skin being pierced. 

He got away. 

She let him get away.

“Betty!” 

Her head snapped up, seeing Cheryl hurrying over to her.

“He had somebody open up a portal for him,” Betty let out, her anger spiking with every word. 

To distract herself from the failure, she quickly walked over to where her first knife hit the wall, pulled it out and returned it to its place on her belt. She then headed to pick up her other two knives and Cheryl’s arrow – she knew she could just leave it there and ask for new knives from the _Iron Sisters_ , but why waste perfectly good blades?

“Hey, it’s not your–“ Clicking of heels and hushed voices caused Cheryl to stop mid-sentence. Betty’s fingers instinctively curled more securely around the handle of the last knife she had been holding as if in anticipation of fight. 

“Betty! Here you are!” Archie’s voice reached her ears. Rationally, she realised she should loosen the grip around her handle now that she knew it was him, but the anger raging through her veins didn’t let that happen. 

“Where have you been?” She turned to face him, her eyes immediately falling to the raven-haired girl standing a few feet behind him. _He wasn’t lying, Archie was really flirting with some girl instead of focusing on the mission._ Even without looking she knew her knuckles had started turning white, and if the knife hadn’t been in her hand, her palm would surely be all bloody by now. 

“Where is Mantle?” he asked suddenly, as if only realising the point of today’s mission.

“Gone. Thanks to you. What the fuck, Archie?” Betty asked. She didn’t usually get angry and if she did, she knew better than to show it. Being a Shadowhunter meant she needed to be level-headed and rational all the time and that meant she needed to keep her emotions in check. And as her mother always said, _getting angry isn’t really lady-like_. 

No, there was no point in getting angry and letting her emotions flow freely. It was much better to bottle the rage up and release it into a punching bag at 2am when nobody was around to see her being _unlady-like._

“I got distracted!” he tried defending himself, but Betty wasn’t having it. 

“By flirting? Seriously? How did she even see you? Why weren’t you glamoured up?” Cheryl chimed in, taking Betty’s side immediately.

“Why are you both surprised that I could see you?” the girl spoke up. Her voice radiated confidence and Betty finally took a good look at her – she stood tall and proud, dressed in clothes far too nice for the dark alley they were in. Even the pearls around her neck screamed _money_ and _class,_ not _dirty alleyways_ and _late nights out alone_.

“That’s why I got distracted! She clearly has _the_ _sight_ , I couldn’t just leave!” 

“Arch, lots of mundanes have the sight,” Betty sighed. She finally slid her last knife back into her belt and pinched the bridge of her nose with her now free hand. This was typical of Archie – find a pretty girl and start acting as if the world was spinning around her. It used to be cute, but now, it’s just annoying. Especially, if it is a different girl every month.

“But–“

“No but. You are my _parabatai_ , you were supposed to be here, and you weren’t.” _And now he got away_ was left unsaid by Betty.

She and Archie were inseparable ever since her parents adopted him. He was her best friend, her brother, her _parabatai._ He was supposed to always have her back, to fight with her, to support her. She trusted him more than anybody else in the entire world, but it was times like these that made her question her decisions.

“I’m sorry Betts, we’ll get him next time,” he offered, but she just shook her head. They had been following Reginald for few weeks now and this was their best chance – he wasn’t going to give them another opportunity to capture him. But she didn’t say anything, knowing it would be pointless.

“You know there won’t be a next time. _Gargoyles_ are careful and they will be twice as careful now,” Cheryl intervened, “you messed up our best chance to get valuable intel on the Lodge’s operations.”

Archie looked like he was about to say something, but the girl was quicker. “Neither of you are making any sense. The sight? Mundanes? Paratabai? Gargoyles? Is that some sort of code? Who are you?” 

“It’s _parabatai_ ,” Cheryl hissed, finally acknowledging the girl, “and I have a better question – who are _you_?”

“I- I’m Veronica. Veronica Pembrooke,” she introduced herself, but was cut off before she could say more.

“You know what, I don’t really care,” Cheryl said, dismissing Veronica with a single wave of her hand, “we should go back, somebody has a lot of explaining to do.” Cheryl looked pointedly at Archie who just gulped. At least he now realised that he screwed up.

Betty followed Cheryl without another word to Archie or to the mundane girl. 

“Wait, you can’t just leave me without explanation!” she protested, neither Betty nor Cheryl turned their head back. Betty heard Archie’s boots following them but the clicking of Veronica’s heels wasn’t too far behind either.

“Please, wait! I need to know who you are!” Veronica shouted desperately.

“And why would you need to know that?” Cheryl asked, stopping abruptly and turning to face Veronica.

“Because of your tattoos,” she said simply, as if that should explain everything. Betty quickly exchanged a look with Cheryl – it was one thing for Veronica to see them through their glamour, anybody with the sight or demon blood could do that. But their runes were glamourized differently; visible only to Nephilim.

“If she can see our runes–“ Archie started hesitantly, his eyes jumping from Veronica to Cheryl and Betty. 

“We should take her to the Institute,” Cheryl said quickly, not letting Archie finish.

“Agreed,” Betty nodded. She had never seen a Nephilim this old without runes – they all attended the Rune ceremony as soon as they turned ten. It was unusual to wait any longer and it was certainly very unusual to see somebody around their age with blank skin.

“Hold on, I’m not going anywhere with you,” Veronica said, shaking her head.

“First, you follow us and now you say you aren’t going anywhere with us? Make up your mind,” Betty said quickly. The girl has already caused them too much trouble and she really wasn’t in the mood to get into an argument with her. All she wanted was to get back to the Institute, hide away in the training room and release her pent-up anger with a good work out.

“Well, you didn’t sound like you were about to kidnap me before,” she defended herself.

“ _Princess_ , if we wanted to kidnap you, we would have done it already,” Cheryl said, clearly unamused by Veronica.

“I’ll come with you on one condition,” Veronica countered immediately, crossing her arms at her chest. 

Betty didn’t manage to suppress the chuckle bubbling in her throat this time – the sound escaped her mouth and earned her an angry glare from Veronica, which only made her laugh more. “I’m sorry, but you are in no place to negotiate. You are coming with us.”

“I’m not! For all I know, you have kidnapped my mother!” Veronica protested, but Archie didn’t seem to care. He walked over to her and threw her over his shoulder, acting as if it was nothing, even though the words that kept spilling from Veronica’s mouth seemed to prove the opposite point.

“Shall we go?” he asked, and while Cheryl nodded, Betty didn’t move.

“Wait, what did you say?” Betty asked her. Did she just accuse them of kidnapping her mother?

“Betty, can’t we deal with it once we are at the Institute? I desperately need coffee,” Cheryl groaned, clearly impatient to get home after the messed-up mission. 

“For some reason, she thinks we kidnapped her mother,” Betty hissed at Cheryl and then turned to Archie. “Put her down.” He followed her order without questions, placing Veronica back on her feet. She glared angrily at him but turned to Betty with a small thankful smile.

“Explain,” Betty said sharply. Now that Cheryl mentioned coffee, she started craving one too. She couldn’t wait to get back, but they needed to deal with this first. _Whatever this was._

“My mother has been missing for about a week,” her voice didn’t sound so confident anymore as she started explaining, “I talked with her last Friday and everything was fine, but then I didn’t hear from her the entire weekend. Which is nothing weird, she has lost her phone a few times before, so I didn’t think anything of her not answering my texts and calls. I don’t live with her anymore, but we always have dinners together on Wednesdays, so I just went home and-” her breath hitched, and her hands shot up to her mouth as if to hide her fright.

“What happened?” Archie asked in calming voice. He reached over to her shoulder as in a calming manner, as if to give her strength to continue. 

“The apartment was a mess – furniture was broken, my mother’s belongings sprawled all across the floor,” Veronica explained. Her voice was clearly shaking by this point and she wasn’t trying to hide it. But no matter how upset she sounded, no tears appeared in her eyes.

“What does that have to do with us?” Cheryl asked, her patience clearly running out.

“Those symbols you have tattooed–“

“They are called runes,” Archie quickly intercepted.

“– Runes, whatever. The point is, our apartment was covered with them.”

This was enough to pique Betty’s interest. She loved investigating even more than fighting – and that meant something coming from a Shadowhunter. Uncovering clues, piecing information together and coming up with elaborate plans had always been her favourite parts of her job. And this – mysterious disappearance, an adult Nephilim without any markings and apartment covered by runes? _Definitely up her alley._

Her eyes dropped to the watch on her wrist – they needed to get back to the Institute as soon as possible. The mission was supposed to be a quick one, they should have been back already. “Can you take me to your mother’s apartment?” Betty asked and Veronica just nodded.

“Alright. I’ll go check out the apartment and you two report back to the Institute,” Betty decided. Cheryl nodded, agreeing that it was the best decision, but Archie didn’t see it that way.

“I should come with you,” he insisted. “After all, it’s me who bumped into Veronica.” 

“And it’s you who screwed up the mission. I’m not dealing with the Blossoms instead of you,” Betty shook her head. “I can take care of myself, I don’t need you chaperoning me.” Archie’s worried eyes jumped from Betty to Veronica, which only made Betty sigh. “And I can also take care of her.” That seemed to relax him enough to give her a small nod of approval.

“Should we tell them about Veronica?” Archie asked. 

“If you tell them, we’ll get in trouble for not bringing her right in. So, I vote no,” Cheryl said, which made Betty hesitate a bit. What was she doing? She always followed rules to the dot. Be it an order from the Head of the Institute or from the Clave or from her parents or even from Cheryl. She was never spontaneous and never broke rules. 

She realised she couldn’t take her position for granted – her parents never passed on an opportunity to remind her of that. _Remember Elizabeth, you always have to listen to the superiors or you’ll get cleaning duty_ or _don’t forget Elizabeth, the Clave is always right and anybody who disagrees is wrong_ or _look Elizabeth, Polly is three years younger than you and she has already achieved so much, hopefully one day you will too._

She shook her head in a feeble attempt to get rid of the thoughts that creeped on her, but it was only the sting in her palms that managed to banish her mother’s voice and pull her back to reality. 

“Just tell them I went straight on patrol and I’ll bring her after and explain everything,” Betty decided. 

They walked away without saying anything else, leaving her and Veronica alone.

“Shall we?” the raven-haired girl asked, motioning towards the way they came from. Betty nodded and followed her without saying anything. 

***

Veronica tried starting conversation with Betty multiple times during their walk to her mother’s apartment, but Betty wasn’t in the mood to talk. She was still pissed at Archie for compromising their mission. It didn’t even matter that he put her life in danger, what pissed her off more was that Archie didn’t take the mission seriously. It was easy for him – he could do whatever he wanted, and he always got off without punishment. Betty wasn’t sure why that was – if it was his charming smile and eyes or if it had to do with the fact that he was one of the best Shadowhunters of their generation or if it was because his parents weren’t around anymore to micromanage his every step. Because when making a decision, all he had to do was consider what he wanted and not the affect it would have on his family legacy.

Betty knew she shouldn’t be thinking this way, but she couldn’t help it – everything she did, she did for her family. She didn’t expect people to know her, to know _Betty_ . All that mattered was that people, that _the Clave,_ would be proud of the _Coopers._

Because one day, she’d turn to dust and ashes and nothing she had done would matter, but the family name would continue to live on.

“Here we are,” Veronica said as they stopped in front of a tall modern building. Betty wasn’t well acquainted with mundane ways of life, but even she could tell that Veronica’s mother must have been rich, because the building just screamed _money._

“Does your mother own this building?” Betty asked curiously after scanning through the lobby.

“No, but I know the owner. His name is Smithers, why?” Veronica asked as they waited for the elevator.

Betty considered for a moment if she should tell her or just play it off. But if Veronica was really a Nephilim and her mother was kidnapped, they could come after her next and she probably needed people to be honest with her and start telling her everything instead of small half-truths.

“The door handle was coated in silver as well as the elevator button. The door itself is made out of iron. There are numerous crosses and holy objects placed all around the lobby. There are windows everywhere to let the most sunlight in. And if you look closely, the carpet only looks Persian, it is actually covered in angelic symbols,” Betty explained. She scanned the room once more, sure that there was more but she’d need closer investigations to uncover everything. She was pretty sure she’d find a demon-binding pentagram drawn underneath the carpet, because that’s what she’d do.

“What does that mean?” Veronica asked, clearly confused about why those random things were of any importance.

“Silver is to protect against werewolves, iron works pretty effectively in slowing faeries down. Crosses, holy objects and sunlight stop vampires and the angelic symbols should keep the demons out. At least the less powerful ones,” Betty said. Watching Veronica’s face express all sorts of shock was quite amusing, especially due to the fact that things that Betty was saying weren’t any secret. Mundanes knew all of this, however if they chose to believe in it was a different story.

“I never noticed that,” Veronica admitted. She looked quite baffled at the realisation that the lobby of her home was designed specifically to keep _downworlders_ out.

“You weren’t meant to,” Betty said. They reached Veronica’s apartment and she unlocked the door quickly, letting both of them in.

She hadn’t lied – the apartment was a mess. But something didn’t quite add up about it – it was too much of a mess. Betty guessed that Veronica’s mother probably didn’t go quietly, she surely put up a fight. But that didn’t explain the emptied cupboards, drawers and shelves. Somebody came here, either before the fight or after, to look for something. The question was, what was it.

“I wanted to clean–“ Veronica started but before she could say anything else, Betty slapped her palm onto Veronica’s mouth. A faint rustle was coming from behind one of the doors. _They weren’t alone._

Betty slowly lifted her other hand to her own face, putting one finger gently against her lips, signalling to Veronica to stay quiet. She then reached into her pocket and took out her stele. Even without having to speak, Betty could clearly hear Veronica’s questions as she ran the stele across the rune on her shoulder. The black of her _hearing rune_ shimmered gold for a few seconds before coming to effect and the sounds coming from the other room became much clearer. She luckily still had the _soundless rune_ activated from the mission, meaning the intruder probably wouldn’t hear her approaching. The same couldn’t be said about Veronica though.

“Stay here and be quiet,” Betty whispered as quietly as she could, hoping that the intruder hadn’t heard them enter or speak earlier. Veronica lightly nodded, probably not even daring to move.

Betty slowly moved towards the door the sounds were coming from, stopping before reaching for the doorknob. She listened for a while. The raffling was hectic but isolated, probably just one person trying to find whatever they were after as quickly as possible. That was good – with Betty having the element of surprise on her side and multiple fighting runes still activated from the mission, she could easily take down whoever was on the other side of the door. 

She waited for a few more seconds and when she was sure the person wasn’t anywhere near the door, she swung it open, three knives in her hand, ready to throw once she had her eyes on the target. 

But the room was empty.

Well, empty except for the enormous mess and fainting sparks at the air, forming the shape of a crown. 

Betty shook her head and looked properly around – she was sure she heard the noises. Somebody was there mere seconds before she opened the door and managed to flee without trace. Well, almost without a trace. _Warlock_ , she thought. That was the only possible explanation. But what would a warlock be doing here? And how would he even get here? With the precautions in the lobby and the symbols she noticed so far on the apartment, this place was heavily warded against everything, which must have included opening portals. 

She was partially surprised that she managed to get in, with all that warding. Whoever Veronica’s mother was, she surely didn’t want to be discovered. 

Betty slipped her knives away, quickly exiting the room. “It’s clear,” she said to Veronica and the girl visibly relaxed immediately. 

“What was it?” Veronica wondered, “did you kill it?” Even though she must have tried her best, her voice still trembled a little at the question.

“Didn’t even really get a good look at it,” Betty shrugged. She walked around the apartment, examining the runes and symbols covering its walls. “Probably warlock. He or she must have heard us come in and had a portal ready to get through as soon as I opened the door.”

“They can do that? Just portal anywhere?” Veronica asked, clearly shocked.

“Of course not,” Betty chuckled, which seemed to make Veronica calmer. “They can only portal to places they had been before,” she explained further, and the worry returned back to Veronica’s face. “Which is good for us – because they either came in through the lobby and will be caught on the cameras or they had been here before, which means you could probably identify them.” Betty was satisfied with herself – it was a solid lead, one surely worth following upon once they returned back to the Institute.

“Yeah, I could try,” Veronica nodded, sounding a bit absent-mindedly.

“I guess there’s no point in asking if you know what they were looking for?” Betty asked. She pulled her phone out now to take photos of the walls, because even though she recognised most of the runes, Veronica’s mother must have had a warlock come in to ward this place as well. Betty recognised which markings weren’t made by a Shadowhunter, but she had no idea what their purpose was.

“My mother had too many old books and artefacts stored in her study,” Veronica said, pointing to the room where the warlock was snooping as they arrived, “if it were up to me, I would have thrown everything out. Everything was old and dusty, and it really clashed horribly with the aesthetic I was going for.” Betty wanted to laugh at the stupidity and pretence of those words, but somehow, they sounded exactly like something Veronica would say.

“Alright – honestly, I have no idea if anything of what they left behind is of any importance. Probably not, the warlock surely knew what was worth taking and what was just trash. Once we get back to the Institute, I’ll ask Penelope to come here with a team – she will know if something valuable was left behind. I don’t think there’s anything I can do now, so go pack up and we’ll get going.”

“Pack up? Where are we going?” Veronica asked and Betty had to resist the urge to roll her eyes.

“To the Institute,” Betty said, feeling as if she had done it way too many times already. How did the girl still not get it?

“But do I need to go? Can’t I just go back to my place and I don’t know, you’ll call me when you find my mom?”

Betty sighed heavily, really not in the mood to argue with the spoiled princess. “Look, I’m not asking you to come. It’s for your safety.”

“For my safety?”

“Yes. Somebody came for your mother and something she owned and clearly didn’t find what they were looking for since they came back. What’s there to stop them from coming for you next?” Betty voiced her concerns. 

“The fact that I don’t have it?” Veronica asked with a tint in her voice as if stating the obvious. 

Betty just motioned around the room, showing off the mess and aftermath of fight. “You think they will care?” 

That seemed to be enough to persuade Veronica that Betty was right. She headed to what Betty presumed was her old room, leaving Betty alone in the living room. Instead of just standing around and waiting, she headed back to the study to see if something, _anything_ , would catch her eye.

Three out of the four walls were covered with bookshelves, but almost all of them were empty. Betty had to be extra careful with her every step if she didn’t want to accidentally put her boot into a book that’s few centuries older that she was. When she reached the desk, she sunk down in the chair and looked over it. Papers were spread everywhere, but it all looked mundane.

She tried the drawers next – one was full of clean sheets, but the other two were emptied out and by the looks of it, somebody had broken the locks on them to get in. If Veronica’s mother had something important stored in them, it was long gone.

Betty returned her attention back to the desk, reaching for a random paper that caught her attention. It didn’t quite fit with the others – while all of the papers on the desk were stark white, this one looked old, with a slight yellowish tint to it.

_If you value your life,  
_ _don’t ever come back here._

_Even my patience and kindness have limits._

The script was elegant and cursive, looking as if the author had all the time in the world to write this. Betty guessed that it must have been Veronica’s mother, leaving the message for the people who came into her home. On a whim, she ran her fingers against the words.

The ink smeared underneath her fingertips and the shock caused her to drop the paper into her lap. It landed with the back-side up, revealing a small crown drawn in the middle of the page.

The same crown as the one she saw when she opened the door.

The warlock. 

“Betty?” Veronica called her name. She probably finished packing and was now looking for her. Before she could think twice about what she was doing, she folded the note and slipped it into the pocket of her jacket. She even zipped it, something she almost never did, to ensure she wouldn’t lose it. 

“I’m coming,” Betty said and promptly left the study. Veronica looked at her with a questioning look on her face, probably wondering why Betty was snooping around, but neither of the girls said anything. 

Instead, they headed out and towards the Institute in complete silence, just as the blues of the night morphed into the pinks of the dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so...? I'm dying to hear your thoughts!
> 
> betad by the amazing [Maggie](https://themaddestofall.tumblr.com)
> 
> new chapter coming next tuesday!


	2. chapter ii

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Clifford said, after Betty explained what happened after she got split from Cheryl and Archie. “Instead of coming straight back from the mission as you were supposed to, you decided to go on alone on patrol, where you ran into miss Pembrooke here. Turns out, not only could she see through your regular glamour, but she was also able to see your runes, which lead you to believe she was a Nephilim. She then told you about her apartment and her kidnapped mother, so you decided to go check it out on your own, without reporting it in or asking for backup. And only once you found an empty and wrecked apartment you decided to come here and brief us?”

Betty gulped, nodding slightly. She realised not following the protocol was a mistake and she would have a hard time explaining this to Clifford and Penelope, but at the time of making the decision, she was in a foul mood after the screwed-up mission and this seemed like a perfect distraction.

“I realise that I made a mistake by not consulting you, but it was in the middle of the night and I didn’t want to disturb either of you or Jason, knowing that none of you were on the night shift. That meant Cheryl was the highest ranking officer at the time and she green-lighted my request to go on patrol straight from the mission. When I bumped into Veronica, I was fairly near her place – I thought there would be no harm in quickly checking the place out.” Betty explained her reasoning once again.

From the looks on Penelope and Clifford’s faces it seemed that they were not entirely satisfied with her decisions, but there was also a sense of understanding in their quiet hums and small nods.

“Alright, I’ll get a team ready and we’ll go and see if there is anything valuable left in the apartment. Elizabeth, please write your report before going to bed, so we can read it before going in, to know what to expect. Include all the details you can remember as well as photos,” Penelope said and promptly left the room. 

Betty felt Veronica’s eyes piercing her, probably thousands of questions swirling through her mind, but she was clearly wiser than to just ask them. Especially while they were still in the room with Clifford. 

“So, Miss Pembrooke… Can I call you Veronica?” Clifford didn’t pause for long enough for Veronica to argue with it, continuing talking almost immediately. “I suggest you get some sleep now, so you’ll have enough energy to begin your training in the afternoon.” 

“My training?” Veronica asked, clearly surprised.

“Yes. You are an adult Nephilim, being out in the world without runes and proper training puts you in greater danger than you could imagine. Your mother may have managed to protect you so far but now with her gone, you need to be able to take care of yourself,” he said to Veronica and then proceeded to turn towards Betty. “Elizabeth, since you have found her, I’m making you responsible for her. Ensure she gets proper physical training as well as required education. Report her progress to me tonight before your patrol.”

With a small wave of his hand, Clifford dismissed them. Betty pulled Veronica out of his office before the raven-haired girl had time to process his words. Betty really didn’t feel up to having to explain everything right now and especially not in front of Clifford. Head of the Institute or not, he wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around.

Betty brought Veronica into her room, because after all, Clifford was right – they both needed to get some sleep. They’d been up all night and if Betty was to start training Veronica and have a patrol shift tonight, she needed all the rest she could get.

“I’ll make sure somebody prepares a room for you later, but for now feel free to rest here,” Betty said, motioning towards her own bed. She’d finish the report and then take a nap on a couch – it wouldn’t be the most refreshing, but she had survived with less already. The orders she had gotten were priority, her own sleep and well-being could wait.

“Thanks,” Veronica smiled softly. “Can I use the bathroom?”

Betty just waved towards the door next to her, which lead to her private bathroom. If there was one thing she loved about living in the Institute, it was having her own bathroom. Before she moved to the Institute, she had lived in Riverdale, homeland of all Shadowhunters. While attending school there, a narrow bed and small closet barely fit into the space that was supposed to be her room. She shared a bathroom with a dozen other girls that lived on the same floor and it was a hell on earth. She had never dreamed of having a room that felt like home instead of just a small space, barely resembling a room more than a closet.

Instead of getting lost in her thoughts, Betty pulled out her tablet and quickly started preparing the report for Penelope. She was nearly finished when Veronica exited her bathroom. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Betty nodded, not lifting her eyes off the tablet. She only needed a few more things and she would be done.

“Why didn’t you tell them about the warlock?” Veronica asked.

“I-“ Betty started. How was she supposed to explain all of the prejudices and racism that are rooted so deeply in their minds? How they are taught that everybody with demon-blood will eventually give into their dark-side? How even though the younger generation is more open, it’s the people in positions of power who remain the most racist and harsh? “It’s complicated,” Betty ended up saying. 

“Nothing is going to surprise me after tonight, so please, entertain me,” Veronica begged, sitting down on Betty’s bed. Betty lifted her eyes from the report, meeting a curious chocolatey pair staring right back at her. She sighed deeply, locking the tablet and placing it back on her desk, giving her full attention to Veronica.

“Mentioning the warlock would just distract them from looking for your mother. They’d end up chasing them instead and there’s no guarantee that they had anything to do with your mother’s disappearance.”

Even though she was a firm believer in following rules and obeying orders, she knew that mentioning the warlock would bring them more trouble than benefits. Instead of just having to write a report about the apartment, she’d have to do full research on warlocks to try to figure out their identity, and she’d have to go on medical evaluation to ensure the warlock didn’t put any spell on her, even though they didn’t come into contact. And even if she had gotten all-clear from the examination, she probably wouldn’t be let to go out to the field for a week as a precaution, in case they had missed something. If there was one thing that Nephilim were better at than being full of prejudices, it was their crazy need to be able to control everything through laws and bureaucracy.

“How can you be sure of that?”

“I’m not. But the warlock knew we were there, and they could have taken us out very easily, but instead they left peacefully. I’m not going to put a target on his or her back just because of that.” 

“And if you are wrong?” Veronica asked sceptically.

Betty considered the implications that would have. Withholding important information that could help the ongoing investigation was a serious crime, which could easily lead to being accused of conspiring with _Downworlders_ and therefore betraying _the Clave_. She would end up bringing shame on her family and disappointment to her parents. 

Betty gulped absent-mindedly, trying to keep her nails from sinking into her palms and returned back to reality. “I’ll think of something if that happens. Now get some rest, you’ll need a lot of energy for when we start training.”

  


***

  


Betty was just closing her travel mug full of coffee when Archie entered the kitchen. His hair was messy and he was wearing only sweatpants, clear signs of the fact that he had just woken up. After giving a quick glance over the clock, Betty chuckled silently – it was already past 11. 

“Somebody slept in today,” she said, pouring him a cup of coffee and quickly adding two spoons of sugar just as he liked it.

“Yeah, I did. Thanks,” he mumbled as she passed him the cup, “did you get any sleep at all?” His voice was laced with worry and care, as almost always when he spoke with Betty.

“I got a few hours in. We came back just after the sunrise and I had to finish report on Veronica’s apartment for Penelope before I could sleep.”

“Oh. How did that go?” Archie’s eyes sparked at the mention of Veronica and Betty had to hold back the urge to roll her eyes at him.

“Somebody did everything they could to protect the apartment from being discovered. From the precautions in the lobby of the building, to the runes and wards inside – Veronica’s mother clearly didn’t want to be discovered. I believe she might have had a warlock come in regularly to renew the protective sigils and spells – the ones I saw were in different stages of abrasion,” Betty bit her lip, thinking for a second if she should tell Archie about the warlock and a second was all she needed to make her decision. He was her _parabatai_ and she trusted him more than anybody – of course she was going to tell him. “When we got in, we weren’t alone.”

“What? Are you okay? Is Veronica okay?” Archie immediately panicked.

“Yes, we both are okay, stop worrying. A warlock was in one of the rooms but had gone through a portal as soon as I opened the door,” Betty shrugged. “If Veronica’s mother used a warlock to protect her home, I’m thinking about showing Veronica photos of warlocks currently in New York from our database to see if she hadn’t seen him or her in passing.” 

“And then what? You want to them to get them to reveal where they are keeping Veronica’s mom? Betts, the two of us are good, but I don’t think it’s wise to take on a warlock. Cheryl would probably be down to help, but even with her it would be a real challenge.”

“I don’t really think that he or she is responsible for the kidnapping – after all, if they helped set up the protection, why would they hurt her?” Betty explained. Archie still didn’t seem to be completely persuaded but he didn’t say more. He knew better by now than to try to talk Betty out of something she sets her mind to.

“I was about to go train; will you join me?” Archie asked, deciding It was probably for the better to change the topic, as he was not changing Betty’s mind.

“Yeah, sure,” Betty agreed. There was nothing wrong with a quick work-out with Archie before she needed to start Veronica’s training – maybe she could get him to help her. Oh, what was she thinking, she definitely could get Archie to help her if the way he was looking at Veronica yesterday meant anything.

Once in the training room, Betty slipped off her jacket, placing it and her travel mug of coffee on a table by the door. She pulled her hair into a high ponytail to prevent it from obstructing her view.

“I’m in a good mood, so I’m letting you pick weapons,” Archie said with a small smile. Instead of stretching his muscles as Betty did, he headed towards the glass cabinet that held an impressive range of weaponry. From bow and arrows, to different types of swords and daggers, all the way through a variety of small throwing knives, it had everything one could ask for. 

“Let’s do seraph blades, I feel like I’m starting to get a little rusty.”

Archie nodded, picking up a pair of seraph blades from the cabinet and throwing one in Betty’s direction. As soon as she grasped it in her palm, the blade lit up, pulling on the angelic power from her blood. The seraph blades were traditional weapons of Shadowhunters – the blade could be wielded only by somebody with Nephilim blood and was effective in banishing demons as well as other creatures with demonic blood. 

The blade was long and heavy, so Betty grasped the handle with both hands, awaiting Archie’s first move. They have done this too many times to count; they could spar together even with their eyes closed – and yes, they have tried. She understood Archie’s technique and movements almost as well as her own.

He always heavily relied on his strength as opposed to agility and speed, often standing too still in order not to waste energy on moving and rather using it to attack. Betty was quite the opposite – she moved around any chance she got, jumping from one place to another as quickly as possible. It may have resulted into her landing less blows, but at the end they were usually more effective than Archie’s brute strength.

When Archie didn’t move, Betty decided to move in first. She started with three quick upper charges at his head, with Archie blocking every single one without a smallest problem. She then targeted his left leg, hoping the sudden change of angle and aim would throw him off, but he moved his leg out of her reach effortlessly. Moving her aim back up, her blows became quicker and more aggressive, channelling the anger from the day before into her blade, forcing Archie to start taking steps back.

She pushed more, spinning clockwise to hit his left side and then immediately counter-clockwise to aim for his right arm. This proved to be effective, as the end of the blade lightly scraped Archie’s biceps. Betty continued to push, throwing a quick succession of attacks at different parts of his body again, forcing Archie to take a step back every time he blocked her blade. She swung at his head once again, Archie quickly ducking out of the way of her blow.

So far, he had just been defending himself from Betty’s blows, not really having an opportunity to return the attack, but with Betty’s blade stretched out above him, her legs were left unprotected. Archie quickly outstretched his arm, aiming for Betty’s right leg, but her reflexes were fast enough as she managed to smoothly block his attack. Their blades stayed connected for a few seconds, neither of them wanting to back down.

It was Archie who came victorious out of their stalemate – he leaned on his left arm for support and with one swift kick to the end of Betty’s blade he sent it flying out of her hand across the room. He quickly got up, starting his own offence – throwing blows, pushing her back through the room. She ducked and evaded each one gracefully, as if there wasn’t a sharp blade going for her with dangerously high speed.

Betty could see Archie’s swings getting sloppier with every move, using it to her advantage. He went for her head next, so instead of ducking and taking a step back as she did before, she ducked and moved towards him, throwing her body against his legs with its full force, before he had a chance to comprehend what was happening. Although he stumbled back, he didn’t fall and the blade was still firmly in his hand, but before he could completely regain his balance and direct his next blow down at Betty, she rolled away to where her blade had landed after Archie’s kick, picking it and herself up in one smooth motion.

“Impressive,” Archie chuckled, wiping a drop of sweat away from his temple.

“Not so bad yourself,” Betty hummed, setting herself back into a fighting pose. She’d let Archie start this time.

As expected, he charged forward, but this time his blows were more calculated. He didn’t push Betty back with aggression, instead he stood his ground close to her and let her attack as often as he did. An equilibrium was created around them – for each forceful strike of Archie’s blade, Betty had a smooth defence ready, and for each of Betty’s swift sways, Archie had an impenetrable block ready. They could have fought like that for hours and neither would win nor lose – the only thing that would stop them was the inevitable running out of energy.

Well, either that or the sound of shutting the door closed. Betty’s back was facing the entrance, so when Archie’s eyes flipped away from her to the door behind, she pulled her blade up, stopping mere inches from Archie’s throat. His eyes immediately flipped back from the door to where the cold blade was now touching his throat and left out a small chuckle.

Betty dropped her arm down and turned to see what caused Archie to get distracted - Veronica was standing in the room, an apologetic look on her face and somehow, Betty wasn’t surprised. 

“I woke up and you weren’t there, so I went looking for you. I found Cheryl and she sent me here,” Veronica explained. Betty could see the way her eyes jumped from her to Archie who was standing next to her, very shirtless and very covered in sweat, lingering on his body a lot longer than necessary. “Don’t let me disturb you, I’ll just go and find Cheryl and see if she can point me in the direction of coffee.”

“Over there,” Betty motioned to the small table next to the door where she placed her coffee before they started the training. Veronica smiled and reached for the mug, taking a few sips before setting it back down.

Betty reached into her pocket, her fingers quickly locating the familiar cold material of her stele. “Give me your arm,” she said, reaching for Archie’s right upper arm, where her blade came into contact with his skin few minutes earlier.

“I’m sorry for that,” Betty apologised. She was always careful, but at the same time, she trusted Archie to block all of her blows and not let her hurt him on accident.

Upon inspecting the scratch, it wasn’t nearly as bad as it looked. The cut was just few inches long and very shallow, but by not taking care of it immediately and continuing training, the blood that has escaped was now smeared across his entire arm, few drops even staining his sweatpants.

Betty drew a small _iratze rune_ next to it, watching the black of it shimmer into gold and then slowly fade. The cut closed almost instantly after that, leaving no trace of injury apart from the bloodied arm.

“Hey, I’ve given you worse cuts, this is nothing. See?” he chuckled, rubbing his left palm against his skin to get rid of some of the blood. Betty nodded, returning her _stele_ back to her pocket and taking both of their blades back to the cabinet.

“You are both very good,” Veronica said slowly, as if unsure whether she should. Archie beamed at the compliment and Betty just hummed contently. She had been training everyday for the last 15 years, she knew she was good; she dared to think she was even more than good. “I can see why they tasked you with training me.”

“Betty is training you?” Archie asked. Surprise was clear in his voice, his attention quickly turning from the raven-haired beauty to his blonde best friend. “What?”

“We talked with Clifford today and he insisted on me training Veronica – she is a Nephilim after all, she should be able to fight. I was actually hoping you’d help,” Betty said. The surprise and shock immediately disappeared from Archie’s face, replaced back by wide grin of happiness.

“I’d love to!”

“Great. Feel free to start,” Betty said, walking over to Veronica, “that is, if you are okay with training with him.” From the way Veronica’s eyes glinted with excitement and mischief, Betty was sure it was the right call.

“Take the staffs,” Betty suggested, waving her hand towards the long wooden sticks next to the cabinet with weapons. She didn’t know if Veronica had any experience with fighting, but she didn’t feel comfortable with putting anything that could cause actual harm into her (or for that matter Archie’s) hands. Letting her train without a weapon didn’t seem like the brightest idea either, especially not against Archie.

“Got it, boss,” Archie smirked at Betty, which earned him a very visible roll of eyes. He took two sticks out, giving one to Veronica and keeping the other for himself. Betty observed them carefully as they got into a position in the middle of the room.

But what intrigued her more than Archie’s preparation was Veronica. She wasn’t sure if Archie noticed it as well, but Betty immediately recognised the position Veronica stood in. It wasn’t just a casual stance of somebody who had no idea what they were doing – no, Veronica’s centre was slightly lowered, shoulders squared, footing steady. She held the staff firmly, but her knuckles weren’t turning white from the pressure.

_Oh, Archie was about to get his ass kicked._

“Alright, so try to hit me?” Archie said as an invitation for Veronica to start.

Even though from the quick examination of Veronica’s stance, Betty expected her to know her way with the stick, she was still surprised at the swift and fluid movements of the raven-haired girl. Archie had to back up to avoid getting hit with her first few swings and then it still took him a few seconds to compose himself and start blocking her blows properly. But even that wasn’t enough, and the tenth sway Veronica took was met with Archie’s right hip instead of his staff.

“This was so much fun to watch,” Betty laughed, enjoying the feeling of shock on Archie’s face.

“Yeah, well, my mom made me attend self-defence classes since I was eleven. It was mostly oriented on martial arts, but we did a lot of stick-fighting and I know my way around with swords as well,” Veronica shrugged as if it was the most mundane thing ever.

When Betty gave it a second thought, it actually made a lot of sense that Veronica knew how to fight. She presumed that her mother was a Shadowhunter and even though she clearly didn’t want that kind of life for her daughter, she must have understood that it wasn’t that simple. That just simply having Nephilim blood was enough to put Veronica in danger and if it came to that, she had to ensure that her child wasn’t powerless.

“Well, this makes things so much easier,” Betty said. She felt a wave of satisfaction and happiness rush through her body – she didn’t have a problem with training Veronica, but if she had to start from the foundations, it would be very long and tiring process. “If you want to go a few more rounds, we can take turns with Archie. Or we can get to studying.”

“Studying?” Veronica asked.

“Being a Shadowhunter isn’t just about fighting – you need to learn about demons and the Downworlders, about runes and how to use them. I’m pretty sure Penelope would love for you to know also our detailed history, but we need to start slowly.”

“Speaking of studying, what about my school?” Veronica asked suddenly.

“What school?” Archie’s eyebrows shot up.

“University. I have classes on Monday and an essay due on Friday,” Veronica explained, her voice sounding a bit shaky.

Betty and Archie exchanged a look full of questions. Archie shrugged, clearly distancing himself from having to explain the situation.

“Look Veronica – nobody is going to force you to become a Shadowhunter. If you decide you don’t want to do this, just say a word and we’ll drop you off, back to your mundane life. But if you decide to stay here with us, to learn about our culture, to take on runes and to start fighting demons, then there’s no going back. You’d put everybody around you in danger,” Betty explained as carefully as possible. She didn’t want to spook Veronica as the girl was starting to grow on her slowly, but she wasn’t going to lie to her by saying she could keep her mundane life as well as this new one, either.

“So, you are saying I either stay here and become a Shadowhunter or go back to my old life?” Veronica asked, her voice clearly hitched now. “What happens if I go back? Will I stop being able to see runes and all those other things? 

“No, you’ll still have _the sight_ ,” Archie shook his head, “you have Nephilim blood, you always could see all of those things.”

“But how come I have never noticed anything before?” Veronica demanded to know.

“My guess? Your mother had help from some warlock, presumably the same who warded your apartment. They could give you a potion or use some kind of spell on you to suppress your _sight_ or to make you forget anything supernatural you might see,” Betty explained. It was one of the things that really bugged her – how come Veronica didn’t know about the runes sooner? Before going to the apartment, she thought that they could have been new, drawn just as her mother had gone missing, but upon inspecting them, she believed some of them had been etched into the walls for years.

“You think that it was the warlock that was at her apartment?” Archie asked and Betty nodded. _It made sense, right?_

“I’ll have to think about it,” Veronica said after a few moments of silence. Betty understood – it couldn’t be an easy decision. Figuring out at 20, that your life could have been totally different, isn’t something easily digestible. Everything Veronica knew up until now wasn’t truth, well, at least not the full truth. “Can we train for a few more rounds? I’d welcome the distraction.”

“Sure,” Archie agreed instantly, “since you seem to know what you are doing, feel free to pick a weapon.” 

Veronica headed over to the cabinet, quickly looking over the selection and range it offered. “This is impressive,” she whistled, reaching to the blades and gently running her fingers against the cold iron.

“You should see the main armoury then,” Archie chuckled, “compared to that, this is nothing.” Archie was right – while they had a nice collection of weapons here, the armoury was on a completely different level. Betty couldn’t even name everything they had there, and she was pretty sure there were only a few people who could. The weapons set aside for training purposes weren’t even in the best shape – though they could still cut skin easily, their quality was far inferior to the ones they took out to the field.

Veronica ended up picking swords and taking them for a few rounds. For somebody who described their skills as _knowing their way around with swords_ , Veronica was amazing. Betty thought it was due to the influences of martial arts, but watching Veronica move was like watching a river run. She moved very quickly, even though nowhere as quickly as Betty. She had no problem with channelling a force equal to counteract Archie’s blows, but she never attacked with that force. Her movements were fluid, her whole body working together as if it wasn’t just a bunch of limbs, but one singular being. In a sense, it was the most peaceful yet deadly movement Betty had an opportunity to watch.

After three rounds with swords (of which Veronica managed to beat Archie once), he declared that he needed a break and that Betty should take his place. She happily obliged, encouraging Veronica to pick a different weapon now.

“What were those blades you were training with before?” Veronica asked, scanning the selection curiously.

“Seraph blades,” Betty said, motioning towards the silver tubes on one of the shelves. “They are the traditional weapons of Shadowhunters – normal swords wouldn’t work against demons and you’d need a specialised weaponry to deal with various demon-blooded creatures, but because seraph blades draw their power from the angelic component of our blood, they are effective against all of them. Once a Nephilim grips the handle, the blade activates, like this,” Betty explained. She picked one up, the blade shooting out of the handle and activating with a soft white glow immediately.

“That must be super useful,” Veronica hummed appreciatively.

“Try it out,” Betty encouraged her, “these ones are shorter more like daggers, while those over there are long like proper swords.” Betty waited until Veronica made her choice – she ended up choosing a medium-length blade, a bit on the longer side. It didn’t react to Veronica’s touch immediately as it did with Betty or Archie or any other trained Shadowhunter, but it eventually lit up with the familiar soft glow. Seeing Veronica’s choice, Betty opted for two daggers, thinking it would be good to use a weapon Veronica wasn’t completely familiar with. 

Betty managed to get lost in fighting – she usually sparred only with Archie, whose fighting style she knew like the back of her hand, and Cheryl, whose style was very similar to her own. From all the people she used to train with, Jason’s style was probably the closest one to Veronica’s, but it still felt completely different. But then, she hadn’t been training with Jason nearly as much as she used to when she first arrived to the Institute, so she couldn’t really compare it. 

Veronica gave her a good run for her money – by the time they stopped after almost forty-five minutes of non-stop pushing and pulling, attacking and defending, both of them were drenched in sweat, panting heavily. They switched the weapons up few times, going several rounds with bare hands, then returning to seraph blades and now, finishing with the sticks once again.

“I have always preferred staffs to swords,” Veronica admitted, rotating the wooden stick in her hand gracefully. She reached down to Betty, offering her hand to pull her up from the spot on the floor she had landed on after Veronica knocked her off balance. Betty gratefully accepted, letting the raven-haired girl pull her back up to her feet. It was only then when she noticed her parents standing in the doorway, watching her every step with narrowed eyes.

“Mother. Father. I didn’t know you were back already,” Betty breathed out as a greeting. Veronica clearly hadn’t noticed them either, spinning around in shock to see who Betty was talking to.

“Elizabeth, who is this?” her mother asked, her piercing look leaving Betty to move on Veronica.

“This is Veronica Pembrooke. I ran into her yesterday during patrol. Turns out, she is a Nephilim, and her mother, who raised her as a mundane, is now missing.” Betty stopped for a second – there was no point in explaining everything, because her parents surely had received the reports already. “I’m sure Penelope or Clifford have already briefed you on the situation,” she ended up adding.

“Yes, they have,” her mother nodded, the look on her face still cold and unwelcoming, “they informed us about the girl, but that doesn’t explain how she has beaten you now. You’ve been training since you could walk, and you let some mundane beat you? I thought you were stronger than this.”

It took her mother only three sentences to drown out the amazing post-workout haze Betty was in and replace it with anxiety and anger. She gripped the stick tighter until her knuckles turned white, but it still was a better response than piercing her palms with her nails. 

“How was Riverdale?” Betty changed the topic quickly, knowing well that there was no reasoning with them. Even if she had told them about the three hours of sleep she got this morning, or about the fact that she had trained with Archie before which wore her out a bit, or about the fact that Veronica was skilled in martial arts, or how the two of them had been sparring for almost an hour by now which left them tired and unfocused; none of that would make them change their mind or attitude. 

“Polly showed us the dress she’ll be wearing for her wedding, it’s simply stunning, Elizabeth! I am so proud of her.” Betty was pretty sure that even Veronica must have noticed the change in her mother’s behaviour and posture. “She was so disappointed you couldn’t come.”

Betty resisted the urge to roll her eyes – her mother knew better than enough that she couldn’t come. Unlike Polly, who never took interest in training or fighting, the Institute needed her. It was her job, after all.

“Yes, you had that mission, how did that go?” her father asked, and Betty felt her blood boiling. She knew for a fact that her parents must have had read Cheryl’s report, that detailed their spectacular failure.

She put on her best fake smile and pushed the bubbling anxiety back down her throat, before starting to answer her question, but thankfully she barely had time to open her mouth, as Archie entered the training room, reached their parents in a few quick strides and pulled them into a hug with a wide grin. “Hey! You are back already!” 

They returned his embrace with equal enthusiasm and Betty had to look elsewhere – she would probably never come to terms with the fact that they love their adoptive child more than their own.

Instead of focusing on the negativity and letting the dark thoughts eat her away, she snatched away Veronica’s stick and headed towards the cabinet to return them.

“Actually, Betty, Clifford asked for you and Veronica – he wants to know about her progress,” Archie said. Betty gave him a thankful smile and motioned over to Veronica to follow her out of the training room.

“Duty calls,” was the only thing she said to her parents. She passed around them with a tight-lipped smile, which was the furthest thing from honest, but _a scowl doesn’t belong on a girl’s face, Elizabeth_. 

Once they were clear of their earshot, Betty spoke before Veronica had a chance. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“What? Betty, don’t apologise! It’s not your fault,” Veronica argued immediately.

“I have years of training under my belt, it should have been harder for you to beat me,” Betty shrugged nonchalantly. Her parents may not have been loving or nurturing and their words may have been aimed to hurt, but there was always a flicker of truth behind them.

“I’ve been doing martial arts for almost ten years as well, it’s not like I have zero experience. And besides–“ Veronica argued, but Betty silenced her by raising her hand.

“Let it go,” she just said as they stopped in front of Clifford’s office.

If Veronica wanted to say something more, she probably realised it wasn’t a good idea and let Betty knock on the door without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all of your lovely comments and kudos on the first chapter! i love you all 💕
> 
> betad by the amazing Maggie (@TheMaddestOfAll) once again - thanks for all of your help and kind words
> 
> see you next tuesday!


	3. chapter iii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologise for missing yesterday's update, real life got into way

After briefing Clifford on Veronica’s progress (he was especially pleased to learn about her background with martial arts) and getting a quick dinner from the kitchen, they headed towards the library. With her parents being back sooner than expected, Clifford decided that Betty wouldn’t be needed on patrol tonight and should instead dedicate the time to teaching Veronica.

“What else should I expect to find in this building? A bar? A swimming pool? A shopping mall?” Veronica asked, as they entered the library. “And the fact that the building is a church? How do you keep people from coming here?” 

“People without _the sight_ don’t see any of this – they just see a run-down church with a lot of _do not enter_ signs and fences. We sometimes get people trying to sneak in anyways, but the door can be opened only with an _unlock rune_ and appears to be stuck otherwise,” Betty explained.

“So, I can see this because of _the sight_?” Veronica asked and Betty nodded.

“All angel and demon-blooded people have it and even some mundanes. We actually have a rune to enhance it, _the Voyance rune_ ,” Betty explained. She pointed to the rune similar in shape to an eye on the back of her right hand. “It is permanent and usually the first one we receive.”

“Tell me more about them,” Veronica asked and Betty obliged. 

“The runes were a gift to the Shadowhunters from angels, to assist us in fighting demons. There are dozens of them, some are permanent like the _voyance_ or _parabatai,_ some are only temporal like an _iratze_ or a _strength_ rune. There is a list of them in _the Gray book_ , let me show you,” Betty said. She stood up and quickly located the book, bringing it back to the table they were sitting by.

“Most of them are pretty self-explanatory, they do exactly what they say. We have a variety of runes to help us fight – _acceleration, accuracy, strength, flexibility,_ some that improve our senses, like _surefooted, vision, hearing_ – I used that one back at your apartment to enhance my hearing. I could explain every single one of them, but it’d take too long, and you would still need to learn all of them, so I’ll leave that up for you.”

“What is _an iratze?_ ” Veronica asked after scanning the page with her eyes.

“It’s a healing rune. Think of it as an instant painkiller or medicine that also takes care of cuts and smaller wounds.” Betty pulled the bottom of her t-shirt up, quickly locating the spot on her hip that sent jolts of pain through her body every time she moved – she was pretty sure that Veronica’s kick would have left a bruise. As expected, her skin was painted with blues and yellows instead of the usual pales.

“Watch this,” Betty said, reaching into her pocket to pull out her stele. She swiftly drew the rune next to her bruise, watching the ink shimmer gold and dissolve into her skin. After any proof of the rune ever being drawn disappeared, the painful colourful splatter was next to follow. No more than five seconds could have passed before Betty’s hip was once again just a plain pale canvas.

“Impressive,” Veronica whistled, reaching out to run her fingers softly against the Betty’s skin. 

“Yeah, it’s very handy,” Betty nodded. 

She didn’t say anything more, allowing Veronica to process what she had seen, but clearly the girl was not shocked by this at all. Or maybe, with everything being new and mystical, she just couldn’t let herself ponder about everything, needing to accept that this was the way things were.

“What about that other weird named one? _Parabatai?_ You have mentioned that quite a few times,” Veronica asked.

“Yeah, _parabatai._ Some people call it the _friendship rune_ , but I feel like that’s an understatement, because it’s so much more than that. It creates a bond between the wearers, one that’s not easy to describe and is different with every couple. Stronger friendship allows for deeper connection; some pairs can just feel each other’s life force, while other can share their emotions, instincts and even strength through the connection,” Betty explained. 

“That sounds intense,” Veronica huffed. “So, you and Archie are _that_?”

“It really is – it’s like sharing a piece of soul with somebody.”

“The two of you must be really close then,” Veronica said. The girl tried her hardest to come off as supportive as possible, but the flicker of her lashes and avoidance of her gaze was enough for Betty to catch the hurt in Veronica’s voice.

“No! Well, I mean, yes, obviously, but no- not like that,” Betty said, stumbling over her own words. Veronica’s eyebrow shot up, clearly waiting for a better explanation than Betty’s stammering.

“It is forbidden for _parabatai_ to share romantic feelings. The bond is as strong as the connection and a connection as strong as a romantic one is way too much for the bearers to handle,” Betty explained. “And besides, my parents adopted Archie when he was ten, so it would be really weird.”

Betty let her mind wander back to the hours she spent researching the bond before the _parabatai ceremony_ , trying to figure out what was the history behind the rule. At that point, Archie had been her adoptive brother for two years already but having known him and having felt something for him for many years before that, the adoption did little to alter her feelings. 

At first, she thought they could go through the ceremony and they could still fall in love afterwards, that although the law said the romance was forbidden, it wasn’t like anything bad could happen, right? But only after researching the history of the bond, she found out how wrong she had been – yes, the deeper feelings would strengthen their bond and give them extraordinary abilities (although she wasn’t sure how much truth there was to that, because none expect one book have mentioned it), but eventually, the bond would become too much, making their other runes burn off and eventually, after all of them would be gone, burn the couple into ashes as well. 

She could still remember the night she found that out in details so vivid, she would swear that it happened just last week. The memory of all the tears, anger and heartbreak that ran through her made her shiver even today.

So, being the obedient little daughter her parents had raised her to be, she went through the ceremony nonetheless of her feelings, choosing to push them down and away, praying that one day they would go away. She did what she was asked to, even though it cost her what she believed back then to be the love of her life.

It took her a few years to come to terms with the bond, to really move past her feelings, but now she could proudly say that if she was given the option to go back and not go through with the ceremony, she wouldn’t have changed a thing. She might have thought she loved him all those years ago, but she was just a child back then, desperately craving attention and affection nobody apart from Archie ever showed her. The pure friendship that the bond allowed them to build meant a thousand times more than a romantic relationship ever could.

But still, even now, years after accepting the bond and dealing with its consequences, a small part of her still believed that her parents made them undergo the ceremony only to ensure Betty wouldn’t fall further in love with Archie. Just imagine the scandal if people were to find out that the oldest Cooper daughter fell in love with her adoptive brother. The entire Cooper name would be tarnished.

“Anyways, that’s enough about runes for today, shall we move to something else?” Betty broke the silence that had settled across the room in fear that it would become too thick too quickly. 

“Yeah, sure,” Veronica agreed. She probably understood from the way Betty got lost in her thoughts for a moment that it wasn’t the easiest thing to talk about.

“Alright, I thought I could teach you more about the Shadow World – you may know some of the things from the legends already, so it shouldn’t be that hard or complicated.”

“I’m all ears,” Veronica grinned widely, so Betty started without any further ado.

Starting with a brief history of the creation of the Nephilim, through the establishment of _the Clave,_ the political body that oversees and enforces the laws, to the newest set of laws, _the Accords_ that ensure peace amongst the Shadowhunters and the Downworlders. Betty then moved on to talk about different types of the Downworlders, providing descriptions of features, strengths and weaknesses of vampires, werewolves, seelies and warlocks. By the time she got to the topic of demons, both girls were too tired to continue, so Betty decided to call it a day.

She walked Veronica to the room Clifford had assigned her, bidding her a short good night before heading to her own room. The lack of sleep the previous night and excessive training today had clearly taken a toll on both of them, so when Betty finally reached her bed after taking a quick shower, she knew sleep would surely overtake her within minutes.

She lied with her face buried in her pillow when a soft knock on her door made her sit up with a low groan. The person on the other side of the door didn’t wait for her permission to come in, opening the door and sliding their head into her room.

“Shit, did I wake you?” Archie asked quickly after taking in Betty’s tired appearance.

She just shook her head and waved her hand at him to come in. Not needing any more prompting, Archie closed the door behind him and made himself comfortable next to Betty on her bed.

“Did you seriously climb into my bed in your patrol gear?” Betty’s eyebrows shot up as she scanned his clothes. It was just past midnight, meaning he must have finished his early patrol shift just minutes ago and came straight to her before even changing out of the dirty clothes.

He just rolled his eyes instead of answering and moved his attention to the tablet he brought with him. “I looked into the warlocks we have in our system today, making a list of those who live in New York. I also checked Penelope’s report, trying to find out as much as possible about the wards and protections drawn by the warlock. Turns out, they were so complicated and powerful, that nobody could identify them. They tried contacting the High Warlock for help as they are clearly clueless about more than half of the staff, but no answer just yet.”

Archie’s words sent a new wave of energy through Betty’s body, waking her up in mere seconds. “Okay, so what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that the warlock that has his fingers in this is either a very powerful one and is able to create new spells and wards, which aren’t in any of our books or records, or that the warlock is extremely old and is able to channel magic that has been long forgotten,” Archie explained, and Betty nodded. “Which makes it a lot easier for us.”

“How so?” Betty asked, not seeing how the fact that the warlock was extremely powerful was supposed to make their job easier.

“That out of the two hundred warlocks we know about that live in New York, only twenty five could have done that, so even if Veronica won’t recognise any of them, it shouldn’t take us long time to go through them one by one and find the right one,” Archie beamed, clearly proud of his discovery. He offered her the tablet he had been holding and Betty quickly took it into her hands.

“Yeah, you are right,” Betty agreed. 

She dropped her gaze to the screen, scanning over the headshots of warlocks before her. Thanks to her years of experience and keeping in contact with a handful of Downworlders, she immediately recognised some of the faces on the list, having interacted with one or two of them on some of the parties Archie somehow always managed to find his way to. 

It was generally frowned upon for Nephilim to be hanging out with the Downworlders, but Archie always seemed to be able to get away with anything, even with befriending the demon-blooded creatures. Betty though had to be more careful, knowing her parents would not take it lightly if they found out their oldest daughter was hanging out with _the bad crowd_ (even though the few Downworlders she considered to be her acquaintances – _not even friends_ – were anything but a bad crowd). 

“Do you know any of them?” she asked him, lifting her gaze from the list to meet his eyes.

“I’ve met some of them and heard enough stories about the rest to feel as if I know them,” Archie shrugged. He reached over to Betty and started opening their individual files.

“Do you think any of them could have done it?” Betty asked with a small voice.

“Do you mean set up protections all around the place and leave you unharmed or kidnap Veronica’s mom and trash her apartment? Because, yes,” he said simply, and Betty gulped. She knew that Archie could take care of himself, but she knew how easily he could get in trouble as well. He himself said that he knew some of these people and now, he implied that not all of them were particularly good.

“Alright, so we have Ethel Muggs here. I wouldn’t put my money on her, because she specialises mostly on healing magic and according to everybody who knows her, she doesn’t have a bad bone in her body. But she is exceptionally powerful and well-skilled in magic, so…” Archie said, showing Betty picture of a young red-haired woman. Betty just hummed along, quickly scanning the information they had on her, but it didn’t reveal anything more than what Archie had already mentioned.

“Evelyn Evernever is probably the second most powerful warlock of New York, that is if she’s still alive,” Archie said, clicking to the next file.

“Should she be dead?” Betty wondered.

“Nobody had seen her or heard about her in about twenty years – many believe that she had died during one of the last battles against Lodge, but most won’t believe that unless they see a body,” Archie shrugged and moved onto the next person.

“This is Sweet Pea, you surely have seen him around,” Archie said. Betty looked down, immediately recognising the tall, dark-haired guy in the picture.

“Yeah, he deals with all of the responsibilities of our _High Warlock_ , who is too scared to show his face,” Betty scoffed. “Well, if he decides he is in the mood to do so, which more often than not he isn’t.” 

_The High Warlock of Brooklyn_ was supposed to be the leader of the warlocks of New York City as well as their ambassador to _the Clave_ . He was supposed to be in contact with _the Head of the Institute_ and ensure that the tension between warlocks and Shadowhunters was kept as low as possible. Forsythe had been at that position for the last 70 years, fulfilling his every responsibility for half a decade and then suddenly deciding to distance himself from all things Shadowhunter, always choosing to send somebody else at his place or just simply ignore their queries, but never giving up his position. 

“Yeah, our dear Forsythe isn’t very social,” Archie chuckled, bringing his profile open on the tablet next. They had acquired a few photos of him over the years he had been alive – a painted portrait from early 18th century from London, an old black and white photography of him and a pair of guys standing next to an airplane and one modern looking shot of him sitting in a crowded bar and looking as out-of-the-place as possible. 

There was something familiar and captivating about those pictures, but Betty couldn’t quite put her finger on, so she lazily dragged her gaze from one to the other, trying to pinpoint the small detail that screamed for her attention.

Archie, clearly not noticing the intensity with which Betty was looking at the pictures, pulled up next profile.

“I have never met this Smithers guy, but he is supposedly over a thousand years old–“ 

“That’s him,” Betty said quickly. “When I asked Veronica about the owner of the building, she said it was this guy named Smithers – I mean, we’ll definitely check it with Veronica tomorrow, but I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”

Archie nodded and promptly turned off the tablet without going through the rest of the list. “Yeah, tomorrow. Get some rest, alright?” His voice slipped out of being thoughtful and focused and into caring and loving. He gently stroked Betty’s hair as he got off her bed, waiting a few moments until she made herself comfortable underneath the blanket. 

“Good night, Betts,” Archie whispered once he reached the door.

“G’night,” Betty whispered back, not even bothering with full words anymore as she let the sleep and tiredness overtake her.

  


***

  


When Betty reached the small kitchen the next morning, the last thing she had expected to see was Veronica chatting happily with Cheryl and Jason, while the latter stood by the stove and flipped a pancake every so often. She actually had to blink a few times, to take the situation in fully.

“Hey! I was about to go and wake you up,” Jason smiled at her softly. He passed her a plate already stacked with pancakes and a steaming cup of coffee, for which she thanked him gratefully.

Sometimes she couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that him and Cheryl were twins. Even though being very similar in many aspects, they were drastically opposite in the majority. Both were skilled fighters and leaders, but while Cheryl was fire, heated and reckless, Jason was ice, cold-headed and calm. Where she rushed into everything head-on, relying on her charm and passion to carry her through any problem, Jason planned everything out to the smallest detail and prepared himself for any situation. There was a clear reason why he was taking over as _the Head of the Institute_ and not Cheryl. 

Betty sat down next to Cheryl and reached for the maple syrup to pour on her stack.

“What a shame that you didn’t record that,” Cheryl sighed, but there was clear happiness in her voice.

“Didn’t record what?” Betty asked, lifting her eyebrow and looking questioningly at the two girls.

“Veronica beating the shit out of Archie,” Cheryl explained, which made Betty giggle. Of course, the two girls had been discussing yesterday’s training – it didn’t happen that often that Archie got his ass handed to him and especially not by a mundane girl.

“That was fun to watch,” Betty agreed, taking a bite of her pancakes. “Although to be fair, I got off no better,” Betty shrugged, not even remembering how many times she had ended up on the floor yesterday.

“That’s true,” Veronica hummed in agreement.

“So, Veronica, I hear that you are quite skilled fighter,” Jason said approvingly. He sat down next to the raven-haired girl and drenched his own stack of pancakes in maple syrup.

“I took self-defence classes for the last nine years. They heavily focused on martial arts and we also did lots of stick-fighting and some sword work,” Veronica explained, and Jason let her speak, nodding approvingly, even though Betty was sure he already knew that. The words travelled fast around _the Institute_ and surely important information like this couldn’t have escaped the ears of the future Head of the Institute.

“That’s impressive,” Jason hummed and turned to Betty. “You should take her on patrol with you.”

A part of Betty expected him to say that, but she still let out a shocked gasp. “You think she’s ready?”

Jason glanced quickly over to Veronica, who suddenly looked a bit tenser than few seconds ago. “I mean, she knows how to fight and she won’t be alone. Take Archie, or even Cheryl with you,” he paused, but Betty could see he wanted to say more. She knew Jason long enough to recognise the face he made when he was trying to find the right words, so she didn’t say anything, not wanting to disturb his train of thoughts. “But she can’t go to field like this.”

Betty knew what Jason meant by that without having to ask for an explanation and from the way Cheryl’s body straightened up next to her, she understood his words as well. If Veronica wanted to continue her training, continue learning about _the Shadow World_ , she needed to start taking on runes. Going out to the field – even on something as simple as patrol, which often went without running into any demon – without protection and strength from runes would be very dangerous.

“Like what?” Veronica asked, her eyes jumping between Betty and Cheryl, anticipating an explanation.

After a few moments, it wasn’t either of the girls that spoke up, but Jason again. “Going on a mission, patrol, or even leaving the premises of _the Institute_ without runes could put you and everybody around you in a great danger.”

Betty could see Veronica’s mouth opening slightly, her eyes quickly finding Betty’s. “You said I could go back to my old life if I wanted to.” The feeling of betrayal in her voice was clear and it cut through Betty’s skin like knives.

“I never said it would be safe for you. Or anybody you know,” Betty shook her head. “I just didn’t want you to feel forced to pick either path.” 

“Be honest with me –“ Veronica said, taking a deep breath, “– if I stay, will we find my mother sooner? Will my friends be safe?” 

Betty found herself nodding slowly, but Cheryl was first to answer. “Finding her without you will be nearly impossible,” she said, without even trying to filter her words, “and as for your mundane friends – they’ll definitely be safer without a Nephilim around them at all times.” 

Veronica’s jaw fell down even more now, shocked at Cheryl’s words. She was never one to be bothered with sugar-coating anything, always preferring to rip the band-aid off quickly. What followed was a heavy silence. Neither Jason or Betty knowing how to make it better, because what Cheryl said was just plain and simple truth. Cheryl contently continued eating her pancakes, as if nothing has happened and Veronica was staring at them in clear shock as an aftermath of Cheryl’s words. 

“Do I smell pancakes?” Archie’s voice broke through the thick silence of the room. He quickly stacked few of them onto an empty plate and dropped down on the bench next to Betty. Still not picking up on vibe in the room, he cheerily spread strawberry jam on the top of his stack, the only one of them choosing to forego the maple syrup.

“I’d love to stay, but I have a meeting to attend. Cheryl, please, join me,” Jason said, breaking the silence once again. He stood up and carried his plate to sink, shortly followed by his twin.

They were almost out of the room, when Veronica called out after him. “Alright. I’m in.”

“I’ll get everything ready,” Jason nodded and with a small wave to he left the room.

“You are in?” Archie asked, his eyebrows shooting up. 

“Yeah. In –“ Veronica motioned around, as if not being able to find any words. “This. Shadowhunting. Runes. Whatever. Your world.”

Archie beamed up at her words, clearly unable to contain his happiness as he started babbling about how great that was, how he was looking forward to showing her around and teaching her everything, how she would fit right in effortlessly.

Betty didn’t contribute much to the conversation, silently chewing on her pancakes, lost in thought. She needed to ask Clifford about the investigation of disappearance of Veronica’s mother and do everything to get on a team he was assembling. She also needed to ask Veronica about the warlock and try to track him down as soon as possible. 

She could do that now, right?

“Arch, do you still have that list you showed me yesterday?” Betty asked.

“Yeah, it’s in my room,” he nodded, his eyebrow quirking up in a clear question.

“Wait here. Both of you.” 

With those words Betty left the kitchen, heading towards Archie’s room. She located the tablet as soon as she got in; even though Archie’s room was a mess, he used the tablet yesterday, which meant he had no time to throw anything on top of it just yet. 

She was back in the kitchen in mere minutes, the pair sitting at the exact same spots as they were before she left, clearly impatiently waiting for her return and explanation.

“Alright, so you know how I was hoping you’d be able to identify the warlock that was at your place, right?” Betty asked, sliding down on the bench next to Veronica. 

The raven-haired girl nodded, but her eyebrow stayed up, still awaiting an explanation.

“Well, Archie put together a list of warlocks who are either old or skilful enough to put up such a complex protection around your apartment as your mom had done. Could you take a look at them?” 

“Give ‘em to me!” Veronica said eagerly. She clearly couldn’t wait to be a step closer to finding her mother.

Betty unlocked the tablet and promptly pulled up Archie’s list, letting the screen flood with 2 dozen of photos. She passed the device to Veronica, allowing her to take a better look at the selection.

“What is doctor Muggs doing here? Is she-“ Veronica started, her mouth falling agape, “- she is my paediatrician, she can’t be a warlock!”

Betty exchanged a look with Archie and was about to say something, but Veronica’s words stopped her before she even had a chance to open her mouth. “And Smithers? I always thought he was way too chipper for a seventy-year-old, but to know it was because of this?”

“More like a thousand-year-old,” Archie chuckled, only fuelling Veronica’s disbelief more.

“It’s too early for this,” she shook her head. Her gaze dropped back to the screen, looking over the rest of the photos. “Oh, I definitely remember seeing this guy around,” she pointed out, clicking on one of the photos. 

Betty reached over to see whose profile she opened, her breath hitching in her throat when her eyes were met with a photo of a guy sitting by a bar, his ring-clad fingers firmly cradling the neck of a beer bottle. 

There was nothing particularly interesting or intriguing about that, except for one small detail. The ring on his fourth finger was engraved with a small crown.

A crown that matched exactly with the one on the back of the letter stashed securely in the pocket of her leather jacket she was wearing.

A crown that matched exactly with the one she saw in Veronica mom’s study room as the portal closed after him.

A crown that belonged to one man only – Forsythe Pendelton Jones III, _the High Warlock of Brooklyn._

“Alright, so we have only three warlocks to investigate, that’s great!” Archie beamed happily.

“Three warlocks to investigate for what?” A sharp voice vibrated through the kitchen, making both girls spin quickly to face the door. When Betty realised it was only Cheryl, she let out a small breath – this would have been much harder to explain to anybody else.

“Ehm…” Archie started, his eyes jumping to Betty, hoping that she would help him explain. After all, it was all her idea, her responsibility. 

“You know what, that can wait, I have to share my good news first!” Cheryl said happily, striding towards their table and sliding to sit next to them. “Well? Is nobody going to ask me what happened?”

Veronica not yet adjusted to Cheryl’s behaviour was unable to do anything but stare at the red-haired force of nature and Archie’s tongue was probably still tied from the shock of almost spilling the details of their secret investigation, which left only Betty to quickly react. “I’m all ears, Cher.”

“My parents are putting me in charge of investigating the disappearance of Veronica’s mom! How great is that? My first big assignment! They said I need some seniors on my team, but that I can pick everybody out myself, do you realise what that means?” Cheryl asked and when nobody answered, she took it upon herself to spell it out for them. “I want all three of you on it.”

Betty didn’t feel shocked for long – the emotion was quickly overcome by pride for her friend. She clearly remembered the moment she had been selected as a lead on a big assignment for the first time – the responsibility that came with it flooded her body and filled her with excitement quite like nothing else before (and that was only fuelled by her father telling her _how proud she made him_ ). 

“I’m so happy for you!” Archie said quickly, huge smile covering his face.

Cheryl might have been reckless and hot-headed, but she was fierce and hard-working, and Betty couldn’t imagine anybody else leading this mission. Honestly, Cheryl taking care of this assignment was probably the best thing that could have happened – it would give them essentially a free hand to do whatever they wanted, without having to report to the seniors and then getting benched when things got too intense. Betty was well-aware that even though Cheryl would probably deny it, Veronica was growing on her slowly but steadily and she would do everything in her power to help her find her mother.

There was another huge up-side to this situation – Betty trusted Cheryl more than she did anybody else in _the Institute._ Well, anybody apart from Archie. That meant she could share what they have discovered with her without fear of being judged for withholding information or sticking her nose into things that were none of her business.

“Well, _boss_ , we can’t wait to work with you on this,” Betty smirked at her, “in fact we are so excited, that we already have a lead.”

Cheryl scanned Betty’s face with a surprised look, but it didn’t take her long to morph the surprise into realisation. “Oh, the three warlocks! Alright, brief me.”

Betty waved over to Archie, signalling him to start. Understanding, he reached over for the tablet that was still in Veronica’s hands and showed it to Cheryl. “So, I read Penelope’s report on the wards they found in the apartment and they could recognise barely half of them, coming to the conclusion that the magic that has been used was either too old or too powerful for our resources. I went on and created this list of New York based warlocks who could have had access to that kind of power and showed it to Veronica, to see if she recognises anybody.”

“And she recognised three warlocks. Which ones?” Cheryl asked, question clearly aimed at Veronica.

“Doctor Muggs, my paediatrician. I remember finding it weird that we visited her as her office was on the other side of the city, but mom said that she was a family friend,” Veronica explained.

“If Hermione wanted her protected, it makes sense that she would have a warlock doctor keep an eye on her,” Cheryl hummed, nodding to Veronica to continue.

“Then there’s Smithers, he is the owner of our building. We’ve lived in the same apartment since I was born, and he had always been there.”

“Had easy access to the apartment and is old enough to remember spells we have no traces of; he fits right to our description,” Archie added.

“Yeah, as the person who warded the place,” Betty agreed silently, but the small comment still brought three pairs of eyes to her.

“Isn’t that who we are looking for?” Cheryl asked, “he clearly must have been close with Hermione, so he’s our best shot at finding her.” 

“I’m not saying that isn’t true, but there’s somebody else who could also help us,” Betty said, opening the last profile on the tablet. 

“Our High Warlock?” Cheryl asked disbelievingly.

“I honestly have no idea who the guy is, but he visited our apartment a few times over the years. I always found it weird, because he is what, twenty? Twenty-five? Every time he came over my mom only talked with him in her study and she made sure I couldn’t eavesdrop – I honestly thought he was her lover for a while,” Veronica said.

“And you think he also helped with the protections?” Cheryl inquired.

“I wouldn’t rule it out. But that’s not the reason why I think we should pay him a visit.”

“Then pray-tell, what is?”

Betty unzipped her pocket, reaching for the paper she had safely stashed in there yesterday. “He left this at Veronica’s apartment.” She passed the message along the table, allowing the three of them to take a closer look.

“Yeah, let’s find him. Because nothing says _willing to cooperate_ as well as _don’t come back here, my patience has limits_ ,” Archie scoffed. 

“Well, for one I have to agree with Archie. There is a reason why the guy cut almost all of his ties with Shadowhunters – he is not particularly fond of us. From what I have heard, he is extremely powerful and easily irritable. One wrong word and he snaps you just like this,” Cheryl said, snapping her fingers to emphasise her point. 

“But what other option we have? We could try tracking Smithers, but for all we know he is either in hiding, kidnapped or dead. Setting up meeting with Jones for answers is bound to help us, at least a bit,” Betty reasoned, looking hopefully at Archie, silently begging him to take her side and help her, but at the end, it wasn’t him who spoke up for her.

“If it brings us closer to finding my mom, we _have_ to do it,” Veronica pleaded.

“You know what, I’m pretty sure there’s something in our vault that he would accept in exchange for information – after all, warlocks love collecting old relics and artefacts,” Archie chimed in, with a supportive idea, which only made Cheryl roll her eyes and sigh. 

“I still think it’s a bad idea, but fine. Let’s try to set up a meeting with High Warlock of Brooklyn who hadn’t been seen interacting with Shadowhunters in last two decades. Because what could go wrong?” Cheryl said with a fake smile and enthusiasm.

Worst thing that could happen was him refusing the meeting, right? Betty thought as Cheryl left.

Oh, how naïve she was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all of the love and comments underneath the last chapter! and thanks Maggie (@TheMaddestOfAll) for betaing 💕
> 
> see you in next weeks chapter, where we finally meet Jughead!


	4. chapter iv

Jason kept true to his word and had everything ready for Veronica to undergo an impromptu  _ rune ceremony  _ that night. Of course, there would be no celebration with the entire family in attendance as was customary, nor a series of tests and examinations to determine if she had completed her training to a satisfactory level and was ready.

Instead, a small group consisting of Betty, Veronica, Archie, Cheryl, Jason, Clifford, two more senior Shadowhunters and a  _ Silent Brother _ , an equivalent of a monk for Nephilim, met up in the training room and went through the ceremony in just under half an hour.

Betty could see the way Veronica’s jaw clenched as soon as his  _ stele  _ touched her skin, but she bit down and didn’t let even a smallest whimper as the Silent Brother drew a  _ voyance rune  _ on the back of her right hand. 

Betty allowed herself to think back to her own  _ rune ceremony  _ for a moment – she remembered the burning of her skin was strong enough to almost tarnish the memory of that day, but when her parents patted her back after it was all done and said  _ how proud she made them by receiving the runes  _ and  _ how she could finally be a real Shadowhunter now _ , all of the pain was quickly forgotten. Betty could count the number of times her parents said she made them proud on one hand with few fingers to spare easily, which made her value that memory even more.

“That hurt a lot,” Veronica said after the ceremony was long over and it was just the two of them left in the training room. Clifford had insisted they continue with training, slowly adding more runes so Veronica would get used to them, but Betty didn’t want to push her, insisting that the raven-haired girl took a break. 

“Don’t worry, the first one is always the worst. By the time you get your fifth one, it will be nothing more than a tickle,” Betty said in-between the throws. Even though she made Veronica take a break, it didn’t mean she had to do it too, choosing to use this precious “free time” to practice her knife-throwing. Not that she needed much practice, but it helped her relax and clear her mind in the best way possible.

“Do you think I made the right choice?” Veronica asked lowly after a few moments of silence, disturbed only by the occasional clank of knives hitting the wooden target on the other side of the room. 

Betty let out a small sigh and picked up another knife from the box by her feet. She couldn’t imagine what Veronica was going through – having her mother kidnapped, her childhood home tarnished and her whole world-view shaken. Being raised not believing in anything supernatural, in a culture that is dead-set on believing humans to be the only inhabitants of earth (apart from animals, of course), only to find out that all the legends are true on the brink of adulthood, can be a lot for one to stomach.

Betty took in a deep breath and closed her eyes, letting her shoulders relax and mind calm down, then exhaling at the same time as she flicked her wrist and sent the knife flying across the room. It was only when she heard the familiar sound of the metal sinking deep into the wood, that she opened her eyes to look at Veronica.

“I know it might seem hard now – with your mom missing, being thrown into a completely new world, with a new culture and rules; having to leave your old life behind. But I promise you, it’ll get better. We are doing everything to find your mother and although the whole idea of the Shadow World can be a little intimidating at first, you’ll quickly get used to it in all of its craziness and trust me, after that, it’s only going to be fun,” Betty smirked at the end, seeing a small, but hopeful smile spur on Veronica’s face, “Besides, you are not alone in this. I’m here to help and so is Archie. Cheryl can be a little scary and cold at first, but she already likes you. And the same goes for Jason.”

Allowing Veronica to let her words sink in, Betty picked up a pair of knives and fiddled with them for a few seconds before throwing them in a quick succession, the second one landing mere millimetres away from the first one. 

“I’m just-“ Veronica paused halfway, as if unsure of her words and feelings, “- I guess I’m scared.”

Betty didn’t want to tell the raven-haired girl that she had every reason to be – that being a Shadowhunter, hunting demons and rogue Downworlders, it wasn’t always a piece of cake. It was dangerous, it was terrifying… It was lethal. She might have only been twenty, but she had already seen more funerals than a regular mundane would during the course of their entire life. She had seen strangers pass away in the line of duty, she had seen her friends suffer and fail to recover from fatal wounds. She herself had taken lives.

It made one question their mortality and safety very easily. 

“I know,” was what Betty settled on saying afterwards, not quite trusting herself to deliver any words of support and reassurance, too afraid of her voice cracking and revealing the ugly truth.

That even after being raised to be a Shadowhunter, after living her whole life in this culture and with their traditions, after training restlessly for days to be able to fight and protect herself, there was still nothing to stop fear from creeping up to her from time to time. Not only for her own safety and mortality, but also for those close to her.

***

Next few days passed in a blur – Betty and Archie did everything to train Veronica as properly as possible, spending most of their days either in the training room perfecting the girl’s fighting skills (even with the impressive head-start she already had, there was still a lot of space for improvement) or in the library, trying to teach her everything there was to know about the Shadow World. Luckily, Veronica was a fast learner, quickly getting grasp of runes, easily remembering details from history even Archie struggled with and steadily starting to understand how law worked in their world.

She and Archie took Veronica to her first patrol the day before. They picked a location that was known for a low-demon activity instead of opting for one with the highest numbers as they usually did, not wanting to push their luck on her first night. They ended up running into two demons, neither of them particularly strong or important. Betty let Archie take care of both of them, while she stood by Veronica, covering both the new Shadowhunter and her parabatai’s back. 

The three of them were in the training room again, Betty finishing up the report on their patrol while Archie had Veronica sweating in his makeshift ring in the corner of the room. Betty remembered Veronica complaining about Archie trying to lure her into boxing, saying that everything about it wasn’t her style, but she just couldn’t resist his puppy eyes when he asked her to practice with him. It only made Betty chuckle, knowing fully how deeply Archie enjoyed box-styled fighting, having endured too many hours of it by his side. She reminded Veronica that it was good to be versatile and that nobody could teach her the magic of boxing quite like Archie, to which the raven-haired girl scoffed, but the next time Archie asked her to spar with him, there was no annoyed roll of her eyes, just pure excitement.

“Ugh, I just entered the room and I’m already suffocating on the sexual tension.” Betty’s head snapped up from her tablet to meet Cheryl who dramatically dropped herself on the table in front of Betty. 

Betty chuckled, her eyes quickly drifting to the pair in the corner of the room – their bodies were tangled together on the floor so badly that from the distance, Betty couldn’t tell who was losing. Probably neither of them, if she was to be honest. “If there’s a girl in the room with Archie, there’s always going to be sexual tension, Cher.”

Cheryl agreed with a small laugh, keeping her eyes on the couple for a few more seconds before turning her attention to Betty. “As much as I would love to make fun of our dear  _ red stallion _ , I’m here on an official matter.”

This got Betty’s full attention, so she locked her tablet, placing it down on the desk and looking up to Cheryl. “Is it about Veronica’s mom?”

The investigation was slow. They had gone to the apartment one more time to see if they hadn’t missed anything before (they hadn’t), they had talked to Ethel Muggs to see if she knew anything (she didn’t) and they asked around about Smithers in hope to locate him or somebody who could point them in the right direction (nobody knew anything). They tried tracking Veronica’s mom by using various things that Veronica marked as important to her mother (the more valued the item to the owner, the easier the tracking), but nothing worked. Their last hope was the High Warlock agreeing to help them, but they have received nothing but radio-silence from him ever since they had asked him for help a few days prior.

They were in desperate need of a new plan or a miracle-

“Jones agreed to meet with us,” Cheryl said, right on cue. 

“What? That is great! We will finally get some answers!” Betty beamed, but Cheryl didn’t look that excited. “What’s wrong?”

“He had few… Conditions,” Cheryl said wearingly. Betty wiggled her eyebrows at her, urging her to explain.

“I know I offered him anything out of our vault in exchange for cooperation, but see for yourself and tell me, if it isn’t weird.” Cheryl placed a yellowish paper on the desk (one that looked very similar to the one she had found in Veronica’s apartment) and pushed it towards Betty.

She hesitantly opened it and scanned the short text written in an elegant cursive writing, one that she recognised far too quickly.

_ Dear Ms Blossom, _

_ In exchange for my assistance, I require the following: _

  1. _Volumes IV & V of Grimoire._
  2. _A vial of Nephilim blood._
  3. _My crown ring._



_ If you are willing to meet my demands, I will be waiting in the Brooklyn Speakeasy at midnight sharp.  _

_ Bear in mind that I’m not a fan of crowds. Or weapons, for that matter. _

His name was signed at the bottom, with a small crown drawn next to the signature. Betty wanted to scoff,  _ who did he think he was? Some kind of king?  _ But then, he was the High Warlock of Brooklyn, the most powerful warlock of New York City and from the research Betty had done, one of the most powerful ones in the entire world. 

“Yeah, so it’s a bit peculiar. So, what?” Betty asked, returning the paper to Cheryl.

“A bit? He is asking for some stupid ring, one that we have spent two hours looking for, because it was so unimportant nobody bothered to label it properly and put it into the system; for a vial of our blood, something he surely has no problem with obtaining with just a snap of his fingers and  _ Grimoire? _ That’s a spell book for beginners, why would the High Warlock need that?” Cheryl asked. Betty had to admit, the more she thought about it, the requests were more than a little odd.

“He could still be asking for your firstborn or your soul, so I say this is us getting off easy,” Betty hummed.

“Like he would have a chance on getting any of those from me,” Cheryl snickered, which made Betty laugh a bit as well. With Cheryl being as gay as they come and so anti-babies, the firstborn would quickly be out of question and as for her soul… Well, everybody knew she didn’t have one.

“Look, we have a written list of his demands, if he refuses to cooperate after, we can still threaten him with the fact that he is breaching a signed contract,” Betty said with a finality in her voice, which seemed to calm Cheryl down.

“I suppose you are right,” she nodded. “We’re leaving at 11, make sure the two of them are briefed.” With that, she got off the desk and headed towards the exit.

“You got it, boss,” Betty cheerily saluted in her direction and even though Cheryl couldn’t see her, something about her laugh told Betty that she knew exactly what she did.

***

They reached the Speakeasy with enough time to spare for them to do a proper perimeter check before going in. After explaining the mission to Archie and Veronica, he mentioned that he had actually heard about the Speakeasy before, the bar being a prominent meeting place for all of the Downworld, but never visited it due to their strict no-Shadowhunters policy (unlike Whyte Wyrm, the other bar in Brooklyn ran by Downworlders, where no such policy was in place, but if you decided to visit it, you’d have to prepare yourself for a lot of angry glares).

So naturally, this choice of setting for meeting wasn’t playing in their favour, but the perimeter check revealed that the bar was, save for a handful of people, empty. 

Exactly with the stroke of midnight, Cheryl brought her arm up and confidently knocked on the heavy wooden door. 

They didn’t have to wait for long – mere seconds later, the door creaked open, allowing them to enter the building. Cheryl got in first, followed by Archie and Veronica, with Betty coming in last. She was about to close the door behind her, but a cloud of soft golden sparks took care of it before she could reach the handle.  _ Of course, why do anything the mundane way if you have magic? _

Before being able to venture further into the venue, they were stopped by a tall figure. Even in the dimly lit room, Betty recognised the guy to be Sweet Pea, Forsythe’s right hand.

“Security check,” he said simply and even though Betty couldn’t quite see his face, she was sure there was an arrogant smirk sprawled right across his lips.

“Don’t you trust us?” Cheryl asked sweetly, but allowed him to search her without resisting.

“Not at the slightest,” he shook his head and moved onto Archie. 

Betty couldn’t blame him – after all, they came armed after being explicitly told not to. Cheryl’s hair was held up by a pair of what looked like metal chopsticks, but in fact being handles of two needle-thin seraph blades; Veronica wore an innocently looking silver bracelet which turned into a whip (which once Veronica got her hands on, she immediately fell in love); and Betty had about a dozen of knives stuffed discreetly in her thigh-high boots (ones she would never wear otherwise). Archie was the only unarmed one, but to be honest, he was never really  _ unarmed _ .

“Follow me,” Sweet Pea murmured after closing his check with Betty. Neither of them daring to say anything, they followed the tall men into the main room.

Betty discreetly scanned the room as they walked through it – apart from the way they entered, there were three other doors, one probably leading to the restrooms, one behind the bar that she assumed to be an entrance to the kitchen and another one that was probably a storage room of some kind. If they needed to escape quickly, the entrance would probably be the safest bet. The bar was almost empty, apart from a werewolf couple occupying two bar stools but too engrossed in each other to notice the group of Shadowhunters passing by; a faerie playing soft melody on a piano and a vampire mindlessly polishing a wine glass behind the bar. 

Before Betty had a chance to start looking for things that could be used like weapons in case of an emergency, Sweet Pea stopped and motioned towards a corner booth. 

And there sat, the High Warlock of Brooklyn, Forsythe Pendelton Jones III, waiting for them with an amused smirk on his lips. His eyes twinkled with mischief and playfulness as they jumped from one person to another. He slowly brought up his glass, taking a long sip without dropping the amused smirk from his lips for a second.

“Please, sit,” he motioned to the booth. His voice was rough and hoarse and although he said  _ please _ , there was nothing voluntary about his statement. It was a clear order and all four of them found themselves dropping to the cushioned bench rather quickly.

“Now, how about we start with some drinks?” he asked and with a quick snap of his fingers, four different drinks had appeared in front of them. A glass of red wine for Cheryl, a pint of beer in front of Archie, a champagne for Veronica and something that looked very colourful in front of Betty. Neither of them reached for their glass, knowing fully how bad of an idea it was to drink on any mission. And especially this one.

“C’mon, don’t let me drink alone,” he urged them, lifting up his glass once again, emptying its contents into his mouth. Again, the words might have been playful, but there was clear authority in his voice. An authority that neither of them were to question, as they needed him to cooperate desperately.

Betty took a small sip out of her glass, half-expecting to hate it as she wasn’t a big drinker, but after tasting the cocktail she found it surprisingly good. It tasted of pineapples and coconut, with a subtle kick provided by the alcohol. Betty liked it so much, she took another gulp without even meaning to. She licked her lips after placing the glass back down and lifted her gaze to look back at Forsythe, only to find his eyes already hung on her lips, following her every movement closely.

“We, ehm, brought what you asked for,” Betty said, stumbling at her own words under the heat of his gaze. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” he hummed, clearly pleased. He kept his eyes on Betty, even as Cheryl unpacked everything from her bag. It was only when she cleared her throat and pushed the things towards him, that he snapped back to reality and looked down at the pile in front of him.

He picked up the vial of blood first, looking at it quickly against the light and then promptly snapping it away from his fingers to god-knows-where. For some reason, the action fascinated Betty – every time he brought his hand up to the air, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the way his long fingers moved purposefully and from the way that light reflected from the rings that adored his digits. His hands were simply eye-catching and always shining – either because of the silver bands or because of the golden sparks slipping from his fingertips as an aftermath of calling on magic.

He went for the books next – haphazardly opening the first one, browsing quickly through the pages and murmuring something Betty couldn’t quite make out under his nose. His expression was anything but pleased as he quickly shut it and reached for the second one, which only deepened the wrinkle in the middle of his forehead. Betty felt herself holding her breath in, her fingers almost itching to reach down to where her knives were stashed, expecting him to lash out at them at any second. He clearly wasn’t satisfied with the books.

But he didn’t lash out – at least not at them. Instead, he summoned a trash can with and swiped the books into it with a swift hand gesture. He elegantly moved his hand in the air again and Betty found herself mesmerised by the motion once more, letting her eyes freely roam over the light and power that the simple movements emitted. She probably would have continued staring, had it not been for another source of light that caught her attention – the bin he had thrown the books in mere seconds ago was now on fire.

“What?” Archie was the first to break the shocked silence.

“Oh, I needed to check one thing and I was too lazy to get my own copies,” Forsythe said simply. After eyeing the Shadowhunters in front of him, who clearly were all still shocked at his action, he continued with a scoff. “Even though those were beginner spell books, as you surely had figured out, that doesn’t mean Nephilim should have access to them. Last time you lot played around with magic it didn’t end well.”

He didn’t say anything more, reaching for the last thing they had brought him – a silver ring with a crown engraved to it, similar to the one he drew on his letters. He toyed with the accessory for a few seconds, and for those few short moments the smug smirk and the playful sparkle of his eyes were replaced by a soft smile and a reminiscent look.

But that all of that was gone after a few seconds and a mask was pulled back up as he closed his hand around the ring firmly, until his knuckles turned white, as if trying to squish the tiny piece of metal out of existence. But it wasn’t his skin losing all of its colour nor the way his veins popped up with the pressure that caught Betty’s attention – now that his fingers finally stopped moving vigorously, she finally had a chance to take a better look at the rings that covered his skin. Some of them were extravagant in every sense of word – flashy, with colourful stones and eye-catching ornaments; some of them were subtle and thin, nearly unnoticeable amongst their big brothers and sisters. But among all of the sparkles and shines, one ring caught her attention more than the others.

The exact same ring as the one he requested had clad his ring finger. There was no mistaking it – the crown etched into the metal was crooked in the same way, silly like a drawing of a child. This one seemed more scuffed though, the edges smoother and the polish duller, worn-out by what surely had been years of use. 

Betty wanted to reach out to him, to run her fingers against the back of his hand, against his fingers, against the cold metal of his rings and against the warm softness of his skin, until the grip loosened and whatever unsettling memory he was remembering had left him. And she would have – she felt her hand slowly moving towards him, her muscles acting on their own, without listening to her brain screaming how bad of an idea that was – if something else hadn’t caught her attention.

The soft sound of piano had stopped filling the space around them and even with her back facing the room, Betty could feel her bones tickling. 

“Something is wrong,” she muttered silently, feeling Veronica stiffen next to her almost immediately.

She quickly looked at Archie and Cheryl, both of their expressions mirroring hers – they could feel it too. It wasn’t just the heaviness of silence that suddenly fell upon the room, it was something else.  _ Demons _ . And from the shiver that ran down Betty’s back, she would say at least half a dozen.

They discussed what their actions should be if it came down to this, and so they have prepared a plan.

_ Step one: get the warlocks to deal with it. _

“You tell us to come without weapons and let the meeting be ambushed by demons? Seriously? Do something!” Cheryl hissed a bit too aggressively, but Forsythe just shrugged.

“Honey, I’m pretty sure they aren’t interested in me and therefore, they aren’t my problem.”

_ Step two: if they refuse to help, try to fight them off without the weapons – they are only to be used in the worst-case scenarios, don’t let the warlocks know we have them on us, or the meeting is screwed. _

“Fuck,” Betty muttered, getting up from the booth, the rest of them right in her tow. Archie reached for a nearby chair, breaking off its legs and passing them around to everybody. Betty and Cheryl immediately took out their  _ steles  _ and started drawing runes on them, to make them useful against the demons. After Betty was finished with hers, she helped Veronica – although she had managed to learn quite a lot in last few days, they didn’t really have time to cover runes for enhancing weapons. While Betty fiddled with Veronica’s chair leg, she saw Archie and Cheryl breaking another chair and preparing two more weapons.

She barely had time to finish with Veronica’s leg when the first demon appeared in the bar. 

The first one was easy – it took Cheryl few long strides to cross the room and then one swift motion to stick the sharp end of the leg into the demon’s chest, turning it to burning ash in a matter of seconds.

Second one was easy as well – by the time it materialised in the room, Archie was standing by Cheryl’s side and took care of it before any of them could even move.

It was the rest that was a bit more problematic. Instead of coming in one by one, seven of them appeared in the room at once. Archie quickly grabbed Cheryl and pulled her back, away from the place they spawned on and closer to where Betty and Veronica were standing in the middle of the room. 

She felt the question on Archie’s face as their eyes met, asking if this didn’t qualify as the worst-case scenario. Betty raked her eyes over the demons and shook her head quickly. They didn’t look too powerful and there were only seven of them, while there was four of them (or three and a half, considering that Veronica had never fought a demon before).

Archie nodded in understanding, squeezing Cheryl’s arm supportingly before charging forward, the rest of them quickly following his example. Betty wanted to tell Veronica to stay back so badly, but with the lack of proper weapons, they needed all the help they could get and besides, she trusted the girl. She was a skilled fighter and it’s not like Betty wasn’t going to watch her back the whole time.

Unsurprisingly, the fight was a mess – Archie and Cheryl were on their left, lost in a pile of black bodies, trying to get some hits in while evading the quick and frequent attacks of the demons. She and Veronica weren’t doing much better – Betty could practically feel the stress radiating from the raven-haired girl and although she fought well, Betty didn’t dare for a second to let her eyes leave her back, which meant she wasn’t fighting to her fullest abilities (which she desperately needed to start doing). 

She was so focused on Veronica and on the demon closest to her, that she almost missed the scene happening by the bar. The werewolf couple she had noticed when they first entered the room, were now staring in the face of one of the demons, both of them clearly too terrified and freaked out to do anything about it.

Betty ran through her options in less than a second – she was too far to make it there in time and she couldn’t risk leaving Veronica alone. Cheryl was the closest, but she was too busy to make it there on time either, same going for Archie. She could ask the warlocks for help, but there was no way to ensure she wouldn’t just waste the couple’s precious time. Time that was slipping away way too quickly. 

That left her with only one option.

_ Step three: use your weapons to make sure nobody dies. _

Betty reached to the top of her boots before she could think twice about it, her fingers locating the metal of her knives easily. She pulled one out, throwing it at the demon hovering by the couple, not lingering her gaze for long enough to see the metal sink into the demon’s back and turn it into dust, hearing the tell-tale sound of it happening being enough of a confirmation that she succeeded. 

The whole process was still a distraction and by the time she turned her attention fully back to the battle, she barely had time to evade long sharp fingers of one of the demon’s, which were going straight for her uncovered side. She quickly took a step back, almost stumbling on her own legs, but somehow barely managing to keep her balance. She was about to try and land a hit at that demon, but the creature had disintegrated before it had a chance to come into contact with her weapon. Betty blinked confusingly, not seeing the cause for that to happen, but she knew she couldn’t dwell on it right now.

She spun on her heel quickly, ready to take on the next one, but there was no next one.

The room was silent once again, all of the demons banished into piles of burning ashes. 

From the looks on the faces of her friends, they were just as confused as she was. One minute, there were still at least four demons around and the next, all of them gone. Neither of them had done that, which could mean only one thing-

“I’m pretty sure this place was supposed to be warded against demons,” Cheryl said pointedly, her hands propped against her hips and an angry look on her face directed towards Forsythe. He didn’t answer, just summoned another drink and took a slow sip.

“Why the sudden change of heart to help us?” Betty asked, eyeing him carefully. 

“Who says anything about a change?” his answered her question with one of his own, making Betty’s mind spin.

He didn’t change his mind to help them, therefore he must have planned on doing it since the beginning, but for some reason, he waited. He waited for the right moment, for a trigger, but what was it? Neither of the four of them were in any immediate danger and the demons were half a room away from the two warlocks. The faerie pianist and vampire bartender had both disappeared as soon as the Shadowhunters started getting ready for the fight and the only other people in the room were the werewolf couple… Oh. The werewolf couple she had protected by throwing a knife at the demon. A knife she shouldn’t have had. 

But that didn’t explain why he chose to intervene – he must have seen that she was armed. Why not just leave? They didn’t listen to his instructions, it was a clear breach of trust. Why help them after realising they are all armed and therefore very capable of taking the demons down?

The whole attack felt weird, from them being able to sense the demonic presence so easily before the creatures even spawned inside, through having enough time to improvise some weapons up, to the warlock’s unwillingness to help…

The realisation hit her with a wave of rage. She couldn’t control her limbs, instead it was the anger flowing through her veins that pulled out another knife and threw it in the warlock’s direction.

Betty knew Forsythe was watching her. She was pretty sure that he saw the moment she realised what had happened play out nicely on her face. And she definitely knew that he could have stopped her before she had a chance to pull out the knife.

But he didn’t and neither did he make the blade stop mid-flight. No, he didn’t even flinch as the blade sunk into the cushioned wall of the booth, the handle almost touching his face from the closeness. No, his grin only widened as he grabbed onto the knife, pulling it out with an amused look on his face.

“Betty, what the fuck?” Cheryl hissed, changing the target of her anger, but Betty couldn’t bring herself to care.

“What is wrong with you? Why would you do that?” Betty all but screamed at Forsythe. Adrenaline still rushing through her body, now combined with anger made her want to curl her hands into fists and press. Hard. Against her palm or somebody’s jaw.

“I explicitly told you to come without weapons. Did you think we were so stupid and we wouldn’t notice?” he asked back. The words were no longer calm and calculated, instead heated and annoyed.

“Well, I didn’t, but you apparently thought  _ this  _ was a good idea, which makes me want to reconsider my opinion on your intelligence,” Betty hissed at him. She knew she should be trying to calm down, not let the anger overcloud her judgement, but she couldn’t find enough strength to do that.

“Wait, did you summon those demons?” Veronica blurted out, realising the meaning behind Betty’s words. “Are you crazy?”

“Oh, calm down. They wouldn’t have hurt you,” Forsythe waved his hand dismissively.

“They are demons, of course they would have,” Cheryl argued.

“Then be thankful that they hadn’t,” he shrugged. Betty wanted to reply with some snarky comment, but Forsythe wasn’t done speaking. “I agreed to help you, I offered to trust you and you came and stumped on it immediately. What else was I left to do than to find a way for you to earn it back in a different way?”

Betty blinked twice, trying to understand the meaning of his words.  _ What did they do to earn his trust?  _

“C’mon dear, you’ve proven already that you’re extremely observant. I’m sure this one is a no-brainer for you,” Forsythe said, winking at her suggestively. The simple action almost made Betty’s breath hitch in her throat and cheeks burn with heat – she quickly dropped her gaze from the warlock to the floor, afraid that he might catch a glimpse of her inner turmoil.

But she couldn’t look at the floor for long, snapping her head back up to meet Forsythe’s expectant gaze. “The werewolf couple,” was all Betty said which had him nodding approvingly.

“What couple?” Archie asked and Betty had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. When it came to taking in the environment, doing perimeter checks or putting two and two together, Archie wasn’t usually the person she would go to. He wasn’t unobservant per se, he could just be so oblivious.

“You could have used your weapons to make the fight easier for you. To make it easier for your friends. From the little I have seen you could have ended the battle before it even started,” Forsythe said to everybody, but something about the way his eyes pierced through Betty made her think the words were for her. He stood up from the booth’s bench and slowly started making his way towards Betty. “But you didn’t. Even before saving their lives, I saw your hesitation – you were looking for a way to save them without exposing your weapons. You could have done nothing, and nobody would blame you, but you acted. You prioritised saving lives of two strangers, two Downworlders against taking care of safety of you or your friends.”

By the time he stopped talking, there was only a foot of space between him and Betty. The knife she had thrown at him was spinning between his fingers and for reasons unbeknownst to her, Betty found it really hard to tear her eyes away. But she slowly did, lifting her chin up to meet his gaze.

“I trust you now,” he said silently as if only for her ears, the arrogant smirk from his face long gone and replaced by a soft half-smile. “Just don’t throw this at me again, alright love?” he added, offering her back the knife, holding the weapon’s handle gently between his fingers and with the blade pointing directly at his heart.

Betty didn’t want to think about the way air got stuck in her throat after his words. She didn’t want to think about the warmth and power she felt radiating of the warlock’s body. And she definitely didn’t want to overthink the way he handed her the blade, with a clear show of the trust he spoke of.

After a short hesitation (one that she desperately needed to compose herself), she reached for the knife, accepting it with a small grateful smile. She was going to say something, but her mind blanked out completely when their fingers brushed against each other for a split second. The soft touch was enough to send a thousand sparks running through her veins, tickling her skin in the best way possible. Betty felt her mouth falling agape at the sudden wave of happiness and calmness, caused by a simple touch. 

Definitely well-aware of the effect he had, Forsythe grinned at her widely, before spinning away swiftly to face the rest of their group.

“Now that that’s settled, let’s get to business. If you would follow me,” he addressed all of them. 

But instead of heading back towards the booth, he brought his hands together, golden sparks coming alive in his palms immediately. He pushed the light forward, the wrist of his right hand flicking a few times in a circular motion, making the sparks glow brighter and grow bigger.

He was opening a portal.

And after he was done, Betty found herself stepping through without a single doubt or hesitation.

For reasons unbeknownst to her, she trusted him as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so we meet Jughead... hopefully, it was worth the wait.
> 
> thank y'all for reading and commenting, you are gems. and thanks to Maggie (@TheMaddestOfAll) for betaing. 💕
> 
> see you next week, with a lot more of Jughead (and Bughead interactions).


	5. chapter v

It wasn’t the first time Betty travelled through a portal – they had a permanent one set up in every Institute and even though you could only travel to Riverdale with it, it was still very convenient and used. 

So, remembering what it felt like to experience portal travelling for the first time, Betty patiently waited for Veronica to come through, knowing somebody would have to steady her, as she was going to feel very dizzy.

She was so focused on watching the portal that she didn’t even pay any attention to the place Forsythe had taken them to. It was only when Veronica stumbled into her arms that she allowed herself to take a proper look around the room they have landed it.

The walls were covered in shelves filled with old books and glass jars full of the most random objects, few mismatched sofas and couches were placed in the middle of room on a thick carpet. There was an opening in the wall that led to another hall and one that led to a kitchen. One of the walls was almost entirely covered in windows, with doors leading to a massive balcony overlooking New York’s skyline.

If Betty hadn’t known better, she would have said that he had portaled them to his home.  _ But he wouldn’t have done that, right?  _ It would endanger his safety and privacy, not to mention it was incredibly reckless – but the longer Betty watched him move around the room gracefully, without any sign of hesitation in his movements, the more she believed her assumption.

“I believe introductions are in place,” Forsythe said with an inviting smile.

“We know who you are, Forsythe,” Cheryl said rather quickly, her voice rough, clearly running out of patience, but trying to hold back from snapping at the warlock.

“Darling, you just proved that you don’t,” he laughed. Betty was stunned by the sound – the laugh didn’t sound dishonest or rude; it felt friendly and teasing. It made her stomach fluster and the corners of her lips twitch up.  _ She could listen to that sound for hours. _

“Do you really have that name in my records?” he asked skeptically but didn’t wait for an answer. “Nobody has called me that in years. I go by Jughead.”

“Alright then,  _ Jug-head,  _ let’s get to business now,” Cheryl said, emphasising his preferred name in a weird way.

“You know, you remind me of the reasons why I stopped working with Nephilim. Always so autorotative you lot, always all work and no play. And no manners!” he scoffed, visibly rolling his eyes. “Am I asking for so much?”

Cheryl sighed, obviously seeing that she wasn’t going to come out victorious from this argument and gave in. “Cheryl Blossom,” she said simply.  _ Forsy- _ Jughead offered her a hand to shake, which Cheryl first carefully eyed and only then lightly shook for no longer than absolutely necessary.

Sensing the redhead’s hostility, the warlock moved onto Archie rather quickly.

“I’m Arch-”

“Archibald Andrews, in flesh. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Jughead grinned at Archie’s stunned expression.

“What? Where? How?” he showered him with questions quickly, but the warlock just laughed.

“You have a reputation,” he offered as an answer. Jughead looked over the redheaded boy once again, before continuing. “You really are a spitting image of your father.”

Betty didn’t need to look at Archie to know exactly what those words did to him – after all, she felt the surprise flowing through her blood as if it was her own and not one that had seeped into her through their bond.  _ Because maybe it partially was. _

“You- you knew my father?” Archie’s voice was rough, and Betty understood why, better than anybody. He barely remembered his father who died in the line of duty when Archie was barely four. He might have not known him, but if there was one thing everybody agreed on when talking about Fred Andrews it was that he had a heart of gold and was one of the kindest souls to ever walk this planet.

“Of course! Fred is- was an amazing man. Brave, loyal, caring. A good friend,” Jughead hummed, clearly getting lost in his memories for a few seconds, but snapping out of them as easily as he fell into. “It’s a real pleasure to meet you.”

Archie nodded eagerly, probably still not fully comprehending the warlock’s words. Surely not enough to notice him stumbling on his words and referring to Fred in present. Which could have easily been nothing – after all, warlocks are immortal, so their opinion on how fast the time passes differs from the one mortals hold. Fred might have been dead for 16 years, but to somebody who had lived for centuries, it could seem like a blink of an eye. She probably shouldn’t read into it too much – but then, the warlock didn’t look like a person who hadn’t put thought into his every single word.

Before she could go deeper down the rabbit hole, Jughead moved to the next person. 

“Veronica,” he nodded simply, “it’s good to see you again, although I can’t help but wish it was under different circumstances.”

A silent  _ me too _ , is the only thing Veronica manages to squeeze out of herself, clearly overwhelmed by the emotions his statement had brought up – after all, they are only meeting because her mother had been kidnapped.

Finally, Jughead stopped in front of Betty. Her throat shouldn’t have gotten so dry, her hands shouldn’t have been trembling.  _ But they were. _

“Betty Cooper,” she offered almost shyly and somehow forced her hand to come up for him to shake. 

If Betty hadn’t been watching his face so carefully, she surely would have missed the way his smile faltered for a few seconds or the way the pupils of his eyes widened. Or the way his jaw clenched as he tried to lift the corners of his mouth up, but the smile that formed couldn’t be further from the genuine grin that sat on his lips just moments before.

He hesitantly shook Betty’s hand, not uttering a single word to her while doing it and then letting go as soon as possible.

The loss of contact, his back turning to her; it shouldn’t have hurt so badly. Scratch that, it shouldn’t have hurt at all.  _ So, why was she flattening her palms against her thighs to keep herself from curling her nails in? _

If anybody else noticed the sudden change in Betty’s mood, they didn’t send any questioning looks her way. Instead, all of them focused solely on Jughead, who seemed finally ready to discuss the reason why they contacted him in the first place.

“You might want to sit down for this,” Jughead said mainly to Veronica, who quickly sunk down on one of the sofas, with Cheryl and Archie following her example and making themselves comfortable. Betty, however, felt too restless to sit patiently, choosing to keep standing where she had been until now, leaning against the glass wall that separated them from the cold New York night.

“I don’t know where your mother is and trust me, I tried tracking her numerous times. But I know who took her and what they were looking for. And you are not going to like it,” he started slowly, addressing the last sentence more towards the three skilled Shadowhunters than the worried daughter.

“Somebody kidnapped her mother, of course we’re not going to like it,” Cheryl scoffed, rolling her eyes. 

“Oh, but it wasn’t just anybody,” Jughead said solemnly, pausing for a couple of seconds. “It was Hiram Lodge himself. Hermione’s ex-husband. And Veronica’s father.” 

Almost a deafening silence filled up the room, suffocating anybody it could get a hold on. 

Hiram Lodge could be described with many words and none of them would be nice. He and his group of loyal followers, Gargoyles, they called themselves, started an uprising twenty years ago, with only one goal in mind – to cleanse the Shadow World from sinners, from impurities. Which loosely translated to wiping out all of the Downworld. 

For reasons nobody seemed to be able to explain, back in the day, he had quite the following. The Clave looked the other way every single time he breached law, the officials in Riverdale didn’t seem to be concerned by anything that was going on outside the boundaries of the city. Apparently, there was nobody to stop the man from doing whatever he wanted.

And that went on for four long years. Four years, Hiram Lodge was allowed to lead and command Shadowhunters, to kill hundreds, if not thousands of innocent Downworlders. Four years during nobody thought it was a good idea to stop him.

The documentation they had of that time was sparse – there were no detailed report missions, no death certificates for the deceased (on either of the sides). No official reason or explanation on how the Gargoyles were dismantled or how Hiram Lodge was stopped. No list of people guilty of partaking, either by directly killing or by watching silently from the side-lines and doing nothing. Betty knew many of them got exiled, even more imprisoned, but she also knew that many were pardoned and went on to live their lives as if nothing had happened, as if they had not taken dozens of innocent lives.

And now, a few months back, the Gargoyles started appearing again, killing Downworlders any chance they got, marking their dead bodies by their signature rune. Which is why they were tracking down Reginald the night they bumped into Veronica.

“That can’t be true,” Archie shook his head unbelievingly. 

“I have no reason to lie,” Jughead said defensively, as if the mere idea of Archie not believing him broke his heart. 

“When Hermione came to me eighteen years ago, I knew who she was. Everybody knew about Lodge and his Gargoyles, everybody knew the woman who stood by his side through it all. But that wasn’t the broken woman I found on my doorstep, desperately begging me to help her. Everything in me screamed to send her away, to get as far away from her as possible, even to kill her. But then, she told me she was pregnant. She was pregnant and terrified of what would happen to her baby if Hiram found out. I couldn’t turn my back on a mother that was just desperate to protect her child.” 

His voice slightly trembled by the time he said those final words, almost as if they were too painful to voice out.

“So, I helped her. I put her in contact with Smithers, one of my warlock friends, who got her a place to stay. I left her in his care, but I checked in once in a while. I can still remember the day you were born; your mother was so happy and yet, so terrified. But we took care of both of you. From simple things like setting up protections around your home, to more complicated ones, like mixing up potions for you to suppress your Nephilim blood and ability to see the Shadow World.”

“I urged Hermione to tell you the truth many times, but she always objected. You were always either too young, too sad because of something irrelevant, too busy, too focused on your mundane life. I think she was delaying it because she didn’t want you to find out. Ever. She was so happy in the mundane world and she knew you were happy too. Dropping something this big would just confuse you and if you chose to go and explore the Shadow World, I think her heart would break. She worked so hard to make your lives work in the mundane world, she forgot somewhere along the way that no number of potions could erase the angelic blood flowing through your veins and that one day, sooner or later, you would eventually end up finding out about the Shadow World and would want to explore it.”

Jughead paused, letting his words sink into everybody.

“I need some air,” Veronica suddenly blurted out and headed straight towards the glass door next to Betty. Jughead flicked his wrist quickly, sending a handful of sparks her way and opening the door for the raven-haired girl.

They could see her standing on the balcony, leaning against the railing, her back rising and deflating with the deep breaths she was taking. Betty considered going after her, but Archie was faster, already on the balcony by the time Betty even formed the thought.

“Do you know what they are after?” Betty asked carefully. After learning about the connection between Veronica’s mother and Hiram, they needed to find her as quickly as possible. Knowing what the Gargoyles were after could be used to their advantage.

Jughead nodded, flicking his wrist again to close the door leading to the balcony. Whatever he was going to say he would rather not say in front of Veronica, which made Betty’s stomach clench in anxiety.

“Her, among many other things,” he admitted in low voice.

“Veronica? Why?” Cheryl asked, her voice strong, but the way it wavered with the last syllable hadn’t escaped Betty’s ears.

“Have you ever heard of  _ the Tears of Wisdom _ ?”

Betty wasn’t surprised when Cheryl shook her head – after all, the redhead wasn’t really that much into studying and certainly not into believing in just any legends.

Jughead opened his mouth to explain, but Betty was quicker. “It’s believed to be the fourth mortal instrument, along with the Sword, the Cup and the Mirror. There’s this legend, that when the first Shadowhunter summoned angel Raziel to ask him for help, the angel was so heartbroken at seeing the world so overrun by demons, that apart from giving the Shadowhunter the three official instruments to fight the demons, he also cried. Angel’s tears are supposed to have extraordinary powers, but nobody really knows what those powers are supposed to be. Some believe that they’re source of infinite knowledge, some believe the tears to have healing abilities, some even think that whoever drinks them becomes immortal. There are dozens of theories,” Betty explained.

“I am particularly fond of the one that says that if you rub them against the eyes of a blind person, they will regain their sight. And that is how Jesus did his miracles,” Jughead chipped in with a chuckle. Betty had never heard about that one before and before she could stop herself, a small laugh had escaped her lips.

“Okay, but what does this fairy-tale have to do with Veronica’s mother?” Cheryl wondered.

“To Hiram it was more than a fairy-tale. As in, he believed every single word. He spent years looking for the Tears, turning every stone around. And it hadn’t been all in vain – he actually found them.”

“What?” Betty asked, not even ashamed of how low her jaw dropped

“You heard me.”

“No, that’s impossible. Even if something like that existed – and it doesn’t – and Hiram had found it, he would have used it long time ago and we would have heard about it,” Cheryl shook her head. Even Betty found it impossible to believe – if the Tears existed, and that’s a big if, they would have heard about Hiram founding such an important artefact. He certainly wasn’t one to keep something like that under wraps.

“He would have, if somebody hadn’t stolen it from him before he had a chance to use it.”

“Why would anybody do that? And how do you even know all of this?” Cheryl snorted, her voice full of unspoken accusations and reservations. 

“He knows because Hermione told him,” Betty sighed, realising what the warlock had been hinting at. “She wasn’t just terrified of Hiram coming for her because she hid his daughter from him, but also because she took the Tears of Wisdom with her.”

“Oh,” Cheryl sighed, understanding now.

“Do you know where the Tears are?” Betty asked Jughead.

“By the time I realised Hermione was missing, the Gargoyles had turned the whole place upside down in search for them. They hadn’t missed a spot – trust me, I checked.”

“Oh, I know,” Betty hummed, remembering the night they visited Veronica’s apartment only to find that a warlock had beaten them to it.

Jughead’s eyes scanned her, clearly surprised, but a smirk appearing on his lips as he realised the meaning behind her words. He chuckled lightly, but did nothing to address their almost run-in.

“But to be honest, I didn’t really believe that she would have hidden it anywhere in the apartment. She is not that stupid, she knew that if she was discovered, the apartment would be the first place anybody would look. I checked every other spot I could remember she mentioned, but I found nothing.”

“Maybe Hiram already found them,” Betty offered, although she didn’t really believe it.

“I don’t think he would still be laying low if he had,” Jughead shook his head. That was good news – he was still searching, and he definitely kept Veronica’s mother alive, as she was the only person who knew the location of the Tears. They just needed to beat him to it.

“Do you think he wants to use Veronica to get Hermione to talk?” Cheryl asked with a low voice, both Betty and Jughead understanding the meaning behind her question.  _ Would he threaten to hurt Veronica, torture her, just to get her mother to talk? _

“I wouldn’t count on the fact that he wouldn’t do it. She might be his blood, but he probably didn’t know about her existence up until a few weeks ago. She’s practically a stranger to him.”

The words sent a shiver down Betty’s spine. She often felt like she wasn’t a daughter to her parents, just a stranger, somebody unimportant. But even with their clear lack of love towards her, she couldn’t imagine them going through with something as extreme as torture. Blood and family meant a lot for Shadowhunters and Betty wanted to believe so desperately that even somebody as perverted and twisted as Hiram Lodge still felt that.

A ringing of a phone pulled her out of her thoughts, back into Jughead’s living room. He quickly picked up the device, glancing at the screen and sighing. For a moment, Betty felt herself wondering who could be calling him at this hour at night.

“Well, as pleasurable as this meeting had been, I have told you everything I know. Feel free to do whatever you want with it,” he shrugged.

“Aren’t you going to help? Wasn’t Hermione your friend?” Cheryl asked, cocking her head to the side as she waited for an explanation.

“I may have offered her my help all those years ago, but the times have changed a lot since that,” Jughead offered an explanation, but it only made things more confusing. “Get your friends and I’ll open a portal for you. It’s not safe to be walking around the city as this hour anyways,” he added, with a clear resolution in his voice. 

Cheryl nodded and got up, heading towards the balcony doors to get Veronica and Archie. Betty knew the red-haired girl had tons of questions,  _ heaven _ , Betty had probably twice that much, but Jughead made it clear – this was all he was offering, and they should leave now.

Betty watched the warlock carefully as he got off his sofa and headed towards one of the shelves, only to stop in his tracks halfway there. He hesitantly turned to face Betty, as if he was questioning his every single move.

“I’m sorry,” he said carefully.

“What for?” Betty asked without thinking twice.

Jughead let out a huff and raised his eyebrows. “Don’t act like you didn’t notice it.”

“Why?” she asked simply.  _ Why did he react that way when she introduced herself? Why did he retreat, why did he stiffen? Why did he panic? _

“Accept my apology gift?” he said hopefully instead of explaining and flicked his wrist couple times, golden sparks leaving his fingers.

Before Betty could ask what he meant by that, her three friends entered the living room and Jughead was already opening a portal for them. 

She almost waited until everybody passed through, so she could have a few more seconds of alone time with the warlock and ask him what that meant, but when Veronica’s hand curled around her biceps, in a way that was clearly begging for her support, she just shot one last smile Jughead’s way and stepped through the portal with her friend.

The four of them exited the portal on the other side of a park where the Institute was located, portal snapping behind them quickly and leaving nothing but a pile of golden sparks falling down to the ground. 

There was no crown left in the air this time though. A thought that he must have left it back in the apartment on purpose, as a message or a warning, letting the intruders know who they just had the pleasure with, quickly crossed Betty’s mind, one that was very plausible if anything she had learnt about him so far was true.

Veronica still held tightly onto Betty’s arm, so it took Betty one unspoken conversation with Cheryl for the red-haired girl to understand that Veronica had gone through enough today. So, Cheryl pulled on Archie’s hand, fastening their pace until they were out of earshot of the two girls and only then started explaining what went down after he and Veronica left the room. Betty knew they would need to write down a report of the meeting as well as bring everybody involved in the mission up to speed, but that would wait until tomorrow. Maybe not with Archie, but most definitely with Veronica.

They walked in a comfortable silence for a while, both girls lost so deep in their own thoughts that Betty didn’t even realise Veronica was speaking until the girl nudged at her shoulder.

“Betty, did you hear me?” 

“Uhm, sorry, what?” Betty just shook her head, trying to focus at Veronica’s voice.

“I asked you if you noticed Jughead’s flirting,” Veronica repeated. 

Betty furrowed her brows, quickly replaying the events of tonight, with nothing particularly standing out. He kept his distance from them, acting professionally, as somebody in his position should have.

“With whom? Archie?” Betty asked. She couldn’t help but remember the way his smile widened when Archie introduced himself, how his eyes glimmered with happiness and appreciation. 

“What? No,” Veronica shook her head immediately, “you really hadn’t noticed?” Her voice was unbelieving, as if Betty was missing something very obvious.

“Was he flirting with you?” Betty guessed again. She was (almost) certain it hadn’t been Cheryl, which only left Veronica or herself available-

She didn’t need to hear Veronica’s answer, as the snippets of memories came rushing back into her mind so fast, they almost knocked her breath out.

Jughead’s eyes full of playful spark, his intense gaze following Betty’s every move as she sipped on the drink that he summoned for her. His fingers gracefully dancing in the air as he commanded his magic, the light reflecting of his rings catching her gaze every single time. His mischievous smirks and his wide genuine grins he kept sending her way. The way he stood so close to her she had no trouble with feeling the heat and power radiating of his body. The way shivers ran down her spine when he said he trusted her, when he called her  _ love  _ or  _ dear. _

“Oh my god,” Betty whispered silently, the sudden realisation still hitting her.

The way he couldn’t tear his gaze from her mouth as she licked her lips after tasting the drink, he had summoned for her. His apology for how he reacted, offering her an apology gift (whatever he meant by that).

“So, you noticed!” Veronica chirped, her voice sounding more excited than it had in days.

“No, I didn’t-“ Betty quickly argued, “he wasn’t flirting with me. He was just doing his job.” Betty shook her head, trying to throw the memories out, but they just kept coming back more and more clearly. 

He was just polite. And a bit friendly. That does  _ not equal _ flirting in any way.

Betty expected Veronica to argue with her, to throw some kind of proof in her face, but the raven-haired girl just shrugged. “Whatever you say, B.”

It did nothing but make the wheels turn in Betty’s mind that much faster, but they already reached the Institute’s entrance and she sure as heaven wasn’t going to discuss the possibility of a warlock (and not just any warlock, but the High Warlock of Brooklyn) flirting with her. Just the thought of her parents hearing such a scandalous rumour was enough for Betty to want to sink her fingernails into the soft skin of her palms.

But she didn’t do that, instead choosing to bid Veronica and the others good night without saying a word about the conversation they just had.

It was only once she was finally alone in her room that she allowed herself to breathe properly. She didn’t want to think about Veronica’s words;  _ no _ , she couldn’t think about her words. At least not now, with everything so fresh in her memory. She would think about it tomorrow, once her brain wasn’t so tired that it would trick her into thinking that Jughead Jones was flirting with her.

With an exhausted huff she reached into the pocket of her leather jacket to pull out her  _ stele  _ and a plastic wrapper of an energy bar she ate for dinner on their way to the bar. But her when her finger hit a small metal object, her brows furrowed almost immediately.

She quickly pulled it out, her gaze dropping to the item in the palm of her hand. 

A silver ring, with a messy crown engraved into the metal. 

The one that Jughead asked for in exchange for his cooperation.

_ His apology gift _ .

She hadn’t noticed her hands were trembling, not until the ring fell out of her hand and landed on the floor by her feet with a sharp thud. She bowed down and picked it up, this time closing her palm around the object tightly, as if in fear she might drop it again and break it. Or that maybe, it was just her mind playing tricks on her and there was nothing in her hand. But the coolness of the metal against her palm and the sharp edges burying into her soft skin told a different tale.

_ Why would he give her this?  _ The ring was clearly significant to him, if she was to make an assumption after what she had seen. 

He asked only for three things in exchange for their meeting – one of them he could have obtained without any problems even without asking, one of them he burned as soon as he was done with them and one of them being this ring. The ring of which copy hugged his finger, the ring that clearly evoked some disturbing memories. The ring that meant something to him.

There’s no way Betty could accept it – had she known what he had done sooner, she would have refused, she would have made him keep the accessory. She should return it. No – she needed to return it. 

But it wasn’t like she had a way to do that, right? She couldn’t contact him without going through official channels and she wasn’t sure how she would explain the possession of the warlock’s ring to Clifford. Or anybody else for that matter. And because he portaled them directly in and from his apartment, she didn’t really know where he lived, so she couldn’t just drop by.

It seemed like the best course of action would be to carry it everywhere, in hopes of bumping into him on sometime.

Without letting herself overthink it, Betty headed into her bathroom, opening one of the cabinets where she stashed all of her accessories. There wasn’t a lot of them, which made it easier for her to locate the long silver chain with a pink plastic heart emblem. She hadn’t worn it in years, which made her not feel bad about snapping the trinket away and sliding the ring on it instead.

She couldn’t exactly wear it on her finger for everybody to see, and this, putting it on a chain around her neck, seemed like the best way to ensure that the ring would be on her at all times. So, she could return it, in case she ran into him.

That night, Betty fell asleep with the cold metal band pressing into her chest, burying into her skin as if it was trying to get as close to her heart as possible and Veronica’s words playing again and again like a broken record.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> betad by the amazing Magggie (@theMaddestOfAll)
> 
> thank you for all of your nice comments on the last chapter, i love y'all 💕 can't wait to hear more from you!


	6. chapter vi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise, i guess? ^u^ enjoy!!

After briefing the rest of the team involved in the mission about what they have learnt the last night, Clifford made them go through Veronica’s apartment once again in hopes of finding the Tears, even though all of them knew it was a pointless task. After all, a group of Shadowhunters and a warlock already turned the place upside down while looking for the artefact, had it been there, somebody would have definitely found it by now.

What made this search so much harder, was that they basically had no idea what they were looking for. Apart from the handful of legends that talked about the Tears, there was no actual record of them existing, meaning they had no idea what they were supposed to look like. They were mainly aiming for liquids, because the legend said they were the tears that the angel cried, but that could have easily been a metaphor for something completely different. And who’s to even say that tears of angels behaved like the ones of humans? For all they knew, the angel tears could be made of diamonds.

That’s why instead of joining the party and pointlessly going over every liquid they found in the apartment, Betty hid herself in the library and dove head first into research.

She started by pulling out all of the legends that mentioned the original incident – the first Shadowhunter summoning the angel and receiving the three (well, four) mortal instruments. After none of those revealed anything new, she moved onto mentions of the Tears throughout history. There wasn’t nearly as many of them as she hoped for, but it was a start.

She chuckled when she stumbled on a text that detailed how Jesus possessed the valuable artefact and used it to fool everybody into believing that he was performing miracles. _Jughead was right, the theory was pretty amusing._

But even after hours and hours of reading old texts, she was no closer to knowing how the artefact was supposed to look, but she was sure of one thing – nobody had even the slightest idea what it did. There were some milder theories that repeated themselves periodically – the infinite knowledge, healing capabilities, immortality or the gift of wings. Then there were some that were just out there – ability to time-travel, mind-reading, seeing future or bringing the dead back to life. But no actual hard proof for any of them.

Actually, the more she read, the less she believed the Tears actually existed. Many people insisted on having the artefact in their possession, yet nobody tried it, nobody could offer even a vague description of it. What was the point of recording stuff if you aren’t going to do it properly?

Betty closed another book with a loud thud. Her head was pulsating with pain, the letters were jumping in front of her eyes, but she couldn’t make herself take a break. She needed to figure it out, not only for Veronica’s sake, but also for her own. She couldn’t give up now, what if the next text held all of the answers? (It didn’t, but the one after that might.)

She was so engrossed in a promisingly-looking manuscript, that she didn’t hear the familiar clicking of heels heading her way. Her head snapped up way too late, when her mother was already standing impatiently by the desk Betty was currently occupying, waiting to catch her daughter’s attention.

“How nice of you to notice me,” Alice said coldly. Betty slowly put the manuscript down, careful not to damage the old pages with any harsh movements, before giving her mother her full attention.

“I was busy working,” Betty said with an apologetic smile, that she tried to persuade herself to be an honest one.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re supposed to be helping Cheryl search for the Tears of Wisdom and not hiding away in the library. The poor girl must be so overworked, going through all of the things from the apartment alone.”

Even though Betty knew none of that was true – she was researching the Tears, trying to find anything that could help them (and Cheryl had been informed of that); and the last time she checked, Cheryl had a team of half a dozen people sorting through the stuff they brought over and she was definitely nowhere near overworked – but still, she couldn’t help stop a sharp pang of pain spread through her body. 

And she wanted to tell her mother all of that, but her throat tightened, preventing her from defending herself. “I’m helping,” Betty let out with a small voice at the end, happy for gaining enough strength for that.

Thankfully, her mother just looked over her with a disbelieving look but didn’t say anything more. Not that she really needed to as her icy glare was worth hundreds of words.

“Your father and I are leaving for Riverdale tonight and Polly wanted you to join us. She wants us to have one last family dinner together before her wedding,” Alice changed the topic, her voice softening slightly at the mention of her other daughter; something that should have comforted Betty, but it only twisted the knife deeper. After all, it was proof that her mother was capable of caring, of loving; just not her.

Betty hadn’t seen Polly in weeks – her sister was preoccupied with finalising her studies and her work back in Riverdale as well as planning her and Jason’s wedding, which date was rapidly nearing; all while Betty had been busy with work here in the Institute. They agreed to hold the wedding here, in New York, as it was where Jason grew up and where they were going to live together, but most of the preparations took place back in Riverdale, deciding that the most convenient way would be just to portal everything in the day of the wedding.

When Polly first got engaged, she had begged Betty to help her with everything, to be with her every step of the way and Betty wanted to, she really did. But after spending three days in Riverdale, in what was their family house but yet, couldn’t feel further from home, after having to face her parents every single day, having to hear them gush over everything Polly did and how proud they were of her, only to tear Betty down in the same breath, she couldn’t do it anymore. No matter how much she loved Polly, no matter how hard her sister’s heart broke when Betty explained that the Blossoms needed her back in New York, she knew it was the only way. The only way to keep her sanity.

Although they rarely had the time to properly build their relationship, Betty loved her sister with her entire heart, and she missed her presence terribly. With Polly being three years younger, by the time she was no longer a total baby, Betty had already started her Shadowhunter training full-time. They didn’t have enough time to bond during their time at the Academy, as their days were always full of classes and training sessions. When Betty finished her education at the age of fifteen, her parents immediately sent her to the New York Institute and she didn’t argue a smallest bit. Even though it meant she would almost never see her sister, it also meant that she would be free of her parents’ always-present, always-judging gazes.

Polly visited her as often as possible, bumping into Jason somewhere along the way, becoming quick friends with the boy. After that, whenever she came to visit it wasn’t just for Betty anymore, Jason slowly but surely replacing Betty in being the force that dragged Polly to New York. By the time Polly moved to New York, Betty wasn’t even trying to fool herself by thinking it was for her. Everybody had known about the two young lovers and it was only a question of time when they would take the next step.

And as expected, it didn’t take long at all – only after a year of living in New York, an intricate ring with a red ruby started decorating Polly’s finger. Betty could vividly remember Polly’s excitement when she showed her the Blossom family ring the day after Jason proposed to her. Betty remembered the pure happiness she felt at that time for her sister, one that wasn’t tainted even by her mother’s off-hand comment of how she was already almost twenty and still without any promising suitor.

Now, with the wedding nearing, Polly spend almost all of her time in Riverdale, getting everything ready for their big day over there, so Jason could get everything ready for them to take over as the Heads of the Institute together. Betty was so proud of both of them – getting to run an Institute at such a young age was an incredible privilege and she couldn’t wait to see them both thrive. They would do an amazing job, she was sure of that – Jason is a natural born leader, amazing fighter and strategist, who watched his parents run this place for years, learning everything there was about the position, and while Polly had never been one to enjoy going out to the field, she’s always been into dealing with politics, law and organisation, areas that interested Jason the least. Their traits nicely complimented each other, making them the best pair available to lead the Institute. _And they would be amazing._

Betty just opened her mouth to accept the invitation – she couldn’t wait to catch up with Polly, but she should have expected that nothing was ever as it seemed with her mother.

“I already informed your sister that you sadly wouldn’t be able to make it,” Alice said dismissively. 

“What?” Betty choked out.

“You can’t afford a night off, you need to work hard. You have to show off your strengths and not slack off, especially not after that failed mission last week.”

Betty felt her hands curling in at her mother’s statement; not enough to pierce her skin, but enough to send a sting of pain through her arms. She couldn’t argue with her, after all, her mother was right. She had been in charge of the mission to capture Mantle and she failed to bring him in. The failure was on her, and it wasn’t staining just her reputation, it was staining the name of her entire family.

“You are right, mother,” Betty nodded in a defeated agreement, which made Alice hum approvingly. 

“Of course, I am right,” her mother said, before turning her back on Betty and walking away without even a hint of goodbye.

Betty’s eyes were long closed by the time Alice shut the library door behind herself and it was only then that Betty allowed herself to release the shaky breath she had been holding. She wanted to scream at somebody, she wanted to hit somebody, she wanted to let her emotions flow freely, to escape her body.

But she couldn’t do that, she needed to focus on work.

Instead, she found herself drawing a rune to calm her anger on her arm, hoping that the rune magic would be strong enough to override the waves of feelings that kept crashing against her body, dragging her underwater and letting her drown. 

Betty reached for the text she had been reading before she was interrupted, but the letters kept jumping around the paper right in front of her eyes, as if mocking her, making fun of her. She should have been feeling the effects of the rune long by now, but nothing was happening.

She ended up throwing the book back on the table, the loud thud making her jump in her seat. This wasn’t going anywhere, she needed to clear her head.

Not even bothering to clean her desk up, knowing she would be back there to continue the research as soon as she got this out of her system, Betty left the library and headed straight for the training room, praying for it to be empty. 

Unfortunately, a quick peek into the room revealed a redheaded duo panting heavily in the middle of the room, both Archie and Jason drenched in sweat. She left as fast as possible, knowing that if Archie hadn’t been so distracted, he would have definitely sensed her distress through their bond and right now, that was the last thing she wanted. She didn’t want to talk, she didn’t want anybody telling her it was okay. She just wanted to clear her head.

She didn’t even bother with stopping by her room to change into an outside gear (sweatpants and hoodie with sneakers would have to suffice for a run) or grab any weapons (she would be fine with phone and stele in her pocket and couple of dollars she always left stashed in her shoe for emergencies). For a moment, she considered finding Cheryl and letting her know she was going out, but decided against that idea, not really in the mood for the questions and concerns that would surely have followed.

So Betty just snuck out of the Institute, covering her head with the hood of her jacket to keep her face at least partially covered from the light drizzle that started falling down and to hide the black ink of the runes that peaked out from her collar, immediately giving away her true nature to all of the Shadow World. Glamourising them would be easy, but it required effort and Betty just couldn’t bring herself to do that. Not yet, at least.

She needed to start running.

Pushing one leg in front of the other, she tried to stop her mind from spinning and focus solely on her senses. On the way the hard concrete pavement felt under her feet. On the cold, but so refreshing air filling up her lungs. On the prickling sensation of small raindrops hitting her face, stinging her cheeks and making her eyes squirm. On the burning sensation she felt in her thighs once she started picking up speed. 

She let the sounds of the city around her embrace her, she allowed herself to become part of the system that was New York. The streets of the city were still busy, full of people hurrying, full of people strolling around. Full of people with focused frowns on their faces, full of people with the widest and happiest of grins. Full of people with purpose, with emotions, with feelings. 

Probably for the first time ever, the mundanes surrounding her didn’t seem that distant, didn’t seem that different. She didn’t feel like a Shadowhunter right now, she didn’t feel different because of the angelic blood flowing through her veins. In fact, she didn’t even think about her angelic blood. Instead, she thought of her human blood, of the part of herself she almost never got to explore. The part that was reckless, that wanted to break the rules, that wanted to have fun. The one that didn’t blindly follow every rule, that didn’t _live to fight_. 

Somewhere along the way, the light drizzle had turned into a full-blown storm, raindrops drenching Betty as they quickly soaked through her hoodie and now felt as if they were hitting her naked skin. And even though the coldness was welcome at first, she knew well that once the majority of her frustrations and anger had left her, she would not feel so pleased by the weather anymore. She was composed enough to take a break now, to dry herself off at least a bit and to wait for the downpour to pass before going back out.

Her eyes scanned the buildings of the street she ended on, coming to a sudden halt once she noticed a neon green sign. She didn’t plan to appear on the doorstep of _Whyte Wyrm_ , one of the bars heavily favored by all of the Downworld. Betty had visited it a few times, well, Archie dragged her to it a few times, but she never went on her own. Even though unlike in the _Speakeasy,_ the _Whyte Wyrm_ didn’t enforce any anti-Shadowhunters rules, there was no way to stop the judgemental looks the other customers chose to throw their way.

Betty knew she could have easily just gone over to the very cosily-looking café next door, or even to the dimly lit restaurant across the road. But her legs, still disconnected from her mind as an after-effect of the run, carried her through the door before she could tell them otherwise.

The music didn’t stop, the chatter didn’t fall away, the heads didn’t turn to look at her as she entered and Betty couldn’t be more grateful for that. Even though her hood hid her runes pretty effectively, she had no doubt in her mind that most of the people in the bar were able to sense her Nephilim blood without even having to look up.

She quickly slid up on one of the bar stools, subconsciously picking the one that was relatively close to the door, but not too close to the corner of the bar, where she might end up easily trapped.

She kept the hood of her jacket up, not feeling confident enough to show off her runes freely to everybody, but she still could see a sense of recognition spread through the bartender’s face as she approached Betty to take her order. 

“What can I get you?” the girl asked her, with her hands crossed in front of her chest - Betty recognising the defensive stance immediately, having taken it one too many times.

“Just a glass of water, please,” she asked politely, knowing better than to do anything that might set the girl off. From the scarring that covered most of the bartender’s neck Betty concluded that she must be a werewolf and well, Betty knew better than to piss of a werewolf. Or any other Downworlder for that matter.

When the girl continued looking at her suspiciously, Betty shifted in her chair uncomfortably, unsure of how to proceed. The storm outside was still raging and she really didn’t want to go back out there, but maybe coming in here wasn’t the best idea after all… “Should I leave?” Betty asked hesitantly.

That seemed to snap the bartender from her gaze. “You can stay,” the girl offered, “but you should know that my boss is around and he isn’t the biggest fan of Nephilim. And the same goes for the majority of the people in here, including me.”

Betty nodded in understanding and watched the girl turn on her heel and walk away. She immediately dropped her head down, resisting the urge to tug on her hood, to make sure it was hiding her face completely. The air around her didn’t feel particularly hostile, but she knew that could change in a matter of seconds. She should get out as soon as possible.

She stretched her legs one more time, finding focusing on the blood flowing through her limbs relaxing. The sound of a glass hitting the wooden surface of the bar snapped Betty’s head up, her eyes immediately falling on the drink placed in front of her. A drink that definitely wasn’t water.

There were at least three shades of orange in the glass, topped with white sprinkles of something. The sprinkles covered the rim of the glass as well, accompanied by a small piece of pineapple. Her brows furrowed, carefully eyeing the drink. “I didn’t order this.”

“No, shit,” the bartender rolled her eyes, as if it wasn’t obvious, “somebody else did for you.”

Betty carefully lifted her eyebrows, scanning the girl’s face for any indication of who. She must have noticed, because she shrugged, “I don’t know who, don’t ask me.”

That made Betty drop her gaze from the bartender to the drink in front of her. She cautiously ran her fingers against the fogged glass, a hint of familiarity running through her body almost immediately. But she pushed it away, not having time to examine its reasons just yet. “Is it... Poisoned?” she asked carefully.

“Like I would tell you if it were,” the bartender chuckled.

“True,” Betty muffled, quickly eyeing the pink-haired girl in front of her. However, as soon as she saw her deep brown eyes staring right back, Betty dropped her gaze back to the patterns her fingers drew on the glass.

“If I wanted to kill you, poisoning you is only like seventh or eighth way I would go about doing it, so you can relax,” the bartender sighed and even though Betty wasn’t looking, she could hear the eye-roll that accompanied the statement.

“Was that supposed to be reassuring? Because it wasn’t,” Betty quipped back, realising she had to fight back a smile. Of all of the things she had expected to happen when she went out for a run tonight, laughing in a Downworlder’s bar definitely wasn’t on the list.

“Look, one of the waiters told me that somebody asked me to make this for you. He mentioned something about you enjoying the drink last time, or whatever. So I did. My job ends there, so do whatever,” the bartender sighed resignedly and left before Betty could muster up a word.

There was something very honest about her statements, so Betty threw all caution behind her head, grasped the glass tightly and brought it up to her lips. Screw it, if that was just a way to trick her into drinking, she didn’t care anymore. She took a leap of faith and it was too late to turn back now.

The bitter kick of alcohol hit her taste buds, but was quickly washed over by the sweetness of pineapple combined with the creaminess of coconut. The feeling of familiarity engulfed her once again, though this time it was much stronger and tangible. She closed her eyes for a second, savouring the taste in her mind, the memory connected with the taste slowly forming on the backs of her closed lids.

_Wait, what did the bartender say? That somebody thought Betty enjoyed the drink before?_

Betty’s eyes snapped open, her head quickly turning to face the bar, scanning one person after another. She usually took her time to assess the environment and her surrounding the moment she entered any place, but in the spirit of not bringing any attention to herself, she forego this habit when she arrived. Which at the time was surely a wise decision, but if she had gone through her routine, she surely wouldn’t have missed a tall figure standing by the pool table, with his eyes dug deep into Betty.

Her empty hand almost immediately shot up to her chest, fingers locating the ring that hung around her neck even through the fabric of her hoodie easily. She knew she would probably run into him sooner or later, but what were the chances of it happening only a day after their first meeting?

But she didn’t dwell on that, instead choosing to walk confidently over to him, ignoring the looks the rest of the customers gave her once they noticed who she was.

“Out of all the people I expected to see here tonight, you were nowhere near the list,” he offered instead of greeting. There was a teasing tint to his voice, but Betty could also hear that he was genuinely shocked and surprised to see her. 

She allowed herself to scan him quickly, which was probably a bad idea. He was leaning against the pool table, his tight black jeans nicely contrasting his white shirt. A blue flannel was tied around his waist and for a split second Betty wondered if it really was as soft as it seemed. His fingers were covered with rings once again, his hands carefully chalking up the end of one of the pool cues. A playful smirk had taken residence on his lips, with a matching spark in his eyes.

The quick observation probably took her longer than she anticipated, because he spoke again. “Play with me?” 

Betty squirmed her eyes at him, trying to figure out what exactly he was hoping to achieve. She didn’t accept the cue he held out for her, instead her hand reached to her neck, quickly locating the chain that hung there and pulling it out.

“I can’t accept this,” she said, outstretching her arm in his direction. His eyebrows shot up immediately, eyes quickly jumping between Betty’s face and the ring that was swinging around at the bottom of the chain.

He sighed after a moment, averting his attention from Betty and instead started collecting the pool balls from the sockets, preparing the table for a game. He didn’t lift his gaze for a second, not even once he spoke again. “You already did,” was all he offered as filled the triangle with the last ball.

“No, I didn’t,” Betty shook her head in disagreement.

He slowly removed the plastic triangle and walked over to the other side of the table, taking the first shot. The balls moved around quickly, bumping into the walls and each other, but none of them falling in. “I gave it to you, you took it home with you. You even put it on a chain and wore it around your neck - you clearly already accepted it,” he shrugged and offered her the wooden cue once again.

Betty’s eyes flickered between him and the stick, but she eventually gave in, reaching to take the cue from his hands. With a gruff, she placed the ring on the side of the table and then turned her attention to the game. She hadn’t played in a long time, but it wasn’t something you can forget easily - after all, it was about precision, angles and accuracy, all of which she had more than enough thanks to her training with knives.

She leaned in, quickly sinking her first ball. Another opportunity presented itself after that, allowing Betty to get into a lead by two easily. Her next shot failed her though, the white ball bouncing off the walls a few times, hitting a few others in the process, but not achieving the desired result.

“Then I’m giving it back to you,” Betty said determinedly. 

A low chuckle left Jughead’s throat as he leaned over the table, sending the cue ball rolling across the green fabric covering the table. Betty’s eyes followed his movements carefully, watching the confident precision with which he always hit the ball, pocketing two balls without a hint of trouble. He then aimed for a third, but his fingers twitched slightly before the cue came into contact with the ball’s surface, resulting in a very crooked shot.

“Well, I don’t accept it. I want you to keep it,” he smirked as he straightened up.

Betty rolled her eyes at him, but quickly moved her attention away from his charming smile and back to the game. She ended up pocketing two more balls before the cue ball itself fell down into the socket.

“Why ask us for it if you are going to get rid of it the first opportunity you get?” Betty questioned him as he got ready for his shot. 

She could hear the sigh he released, but an answer didn’t follow. It didn’t follow for a few more moments, not until he evened out the score and messed up what Betty thought was a clean shot. 

“I thought I was ready, but I wasn’t,” he offered as an explanation, but it only served to fuel more of Betty’s interest.

“Ready for what?” she asked curiously. He shook his head and motioned his hand towards table. _Play first, ask later_. So she did.

She managed to get only one ball this time before messing up, but even that gave her enough time to rethink her question. “It wasn’t really your ring,” she declared matter-of-factly. 

He leaned in to play again, sending the cue ball through the entire table and sinking his fifth ball. Betty’s eyebrows furrowed at that, the shot he had just done required a lot of planning and precision to make work. How could he do that and then mess up a straightforward one? Before she could ponder about that more, it was her turn again.

“You noticed,” he said simply, not really advancing the conversation. She wanted to call him out on it, say that if he wasn’t going to give her proper answers, why even bother talking, but she bit the inside of her cheek and focused on the balls in front of her.

They were tied at two balls each, with Betty always going first and Jughead essentially erasing all of her progress in his round. Was he doing that on purpose? He couldn’t right? Or could he? No, it definitely was a coincidence, right? Although, it wouldn’t hurt anybody to check.

Instead of going for the easier of the opportunities available on the table, Betty aimed for a wall in hopes of at least making it seem like she was trying to make a successful shot at the inconveniently placed ball, but knowing fully that her attempts were futile. As expected, the cue ball rolled, hit the wall and then bumped into her ball, but that was about it.

“You didn’t really try to hide it,” Betty shrugged. Even now, the crown ring lied on his finger freely, for everybody to see.

Jughead leaned to take a shot, but Betty wasn’t surprised when she didn’t hear the tell-tale sound of a ball entering the socket. He missed and even though he acted really disappointed about it, Betty saw right through his pretend sadness.

“I used a perception spell on it,” he admitted and Betty’s head shot up. 

She scanned his face carefully, trying to figure out if it meant what she thought it did. She read about perception spells - they didn’t hide the object completely as normal glamouring spells did, instead just making it hard for an observer to focus on the object in question. Their eyes would involuntarily skip over the enchanted object, their mind would discard that spot as empty because attempting to see through the veil would require too much work. Of course, if one focused hard or long enough, they’d be able to see right through it, but she didn’t do that, _right_? 

She wanted to tell him that he couldn’t have done that, that she wouldn’t have been able to notice the ring on his finger otherwise, but she instead chose to focus on the game of pool, placing one of her balls into the socket before finishing her turn, all while thinking about the situation.

A question sparked in her mind, one that would explain why he had a set of matching rings, why his face twitched in pain and sorrow when he grasped the accessory during their first meeting, why he wasn’t ready.

“Did you love her?” the words slipped from her mouth before she could stop herself, before she could realise that blurting out such a personal question probably wasn’t the best idea.

Betty could see his whole body tensing up, his smile faltering just the slightest bit. He didn’t lift up his head to meet her apologetic gaze, instead wordlessly aligning his cue with the white ball and taking the shot. He waited until the ball fell down into the socket, taking another shot but Betty knew already he wouldn’t sink his last ball. Surely not before she did so.

“More than anything,” he admitted silently. Betty’s heart almost broke at the raw emotion in those words - he might not have said it, but he still did. Whoever she was, whether she was still alive or dead for centuries, his heart still ached after her. And for some reason, Betty felt a stabbing pain at that realisation.

“I’m sorry for your loss. And for asking,” she offered quickly, hoping that she hadn’t crossed any line.

“Don’t be,” he smiled at her gently, “you are exceptionally smart, I knew you would eventually put two and two together. And for what it’s worth, I could have stopped you sooner.” He fell silent after that, clearly letting himself deal with his emotions while Betty played her round.

For a second she contemplated missing the shot on purpose, giving him a chance to win so the bad feeling that had settled in her chest would leave, but something told her he wouldn’t let her go through with that plan, that he would always just copy her actions. 

So she went for her last ball, easily sinking her into the socket. The position of her cue ball wasn’t ideal after that, but she still managed to figure out an angle that could finish the game, hitting the cue ball on an exhale and then just watching as the white smashed into the black, sending it spinning towards the corner hole.

When she looked up at him, there was no hint of the sadness that resided on his face just mere moments ago anymore; instead he showed off his teeth with a wide grin he offered her.

“Well, now I need a rematch,” he huffed, already fishing out the balls of the sockets.

“On one condition,” Betty said.

He stopped immediately, his eyes shooting up to meet Betty’s. “Shoot.”

“You don’t let me win this time.”

Even though he tried to hide it with a chuckle, Betty noticed the way his jaw dropped in surprise. “You noticed,” he said, repeating his words from a few rounds before. 

“You didn’t do a particularly good job of hiding it,” Betty shrugged.

“No, I didn’t,” he admitted, but there was no disappointment in his voice. No, it sounded more like he was proud of, like he did it on purpose. Like he wanted her to notice, to demand a rematch…

“Well played,” she admitted once she realised that was his plan all along. He didn’t answer, but his proud smirk spoke volumes. 

“Alright, how about this - instead of leaving because you just tried to manipulate me, I’ll play another game with you. If I win, you take this back,” Betty said, motioning towards the ring that had still lied where she had placed it before they started. “And if I lose, I accept it.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” he said with a wink.

It took Jughead only three rounds to clear the entire table off his balls. Betty tried keeping up, but her fifteen or so years of training were still nothing compared to the experience he had accumulated during the last few centuries. 

By the time they had started the tie-breaking game, the chain with ring was hung around her neck once again. 

However, they barely had time to get through even half of it, before Betty’s phone started angrily vibrating in her pocket. She pulled it out with an apologetic sigh, accepting Archie’s call without giving it a second thought.

“Arch,” she answered.

“Betty! Where are you?” he blurted quickly.

“I needed a break, so I went out for a run,” she said, knowing fully that she was evading his question, but if he noticed it, he didn’t choose to comment on it.

“I was supposed to go on patrol with Jason tonight, but mom took him to Riverdale for some kind of family dinner. So, you up?” Archie asked. Betty felt her heart breaking a little at the fact that her mother essentially forbid her from attending the dinner, but then went on and took Jason, but she quickly brushed it away, not allowing herself to give into the anger for the second time today.

“Yeah sure,” Betty hummed, “should I come back, or will we meet somewhere?”

“I should be leaving in about five minutes, so let’s meet up?” Archie offered, which made Betty chuckle. Of course he waited until the last possible moment to find somebody to go on patrol with him, but Betty didn’t mind. She was always up for patrolling with Archie, something she didn’t get to do nearly as often as she would like to.

“Alright, can you bring my jacket and weapons with you?” she asked him.

“Your wish is my command,” he joked and Betty chuckled and they quickly agreed on a meeting spot before hanging up.

“You have to go,” Jughead sighed understandingly and Betty nodded.

“I-“ she started, unsure of what to say. She wanted to tell him she enjoyed his company, that he helped her not to think about the stuff that had transpired with her mother. She wanted to thank him for giving her the necklace - this time really. She wanted to share with him how she enjoyed the small conversation that filled the breaks in-between the game. She wanted to stand closer and tell him that she would love to do this again sometime.

But then the fact that he was a Downworlder hit her. She couldn’t do this, she couldn’t allow herself to get close to him - it would only end in pain and terror. And not only that, he was a warlock. _The High Warlock of Brooklyn._ It would be more than stupid to get involved with him.

And especially when there was somebody - somebody who he clearly still loved, so much that just a simple reminder of her sent a jolt of pain through his body. _No, she couldn’t let herself get involved, not more than this._

“Thank you,” she mustered at the end, not trusting her voice to say more in fear that it would betray her.

“My pleasure,” he answered with a wink and Betty’s heart flustered, as if it hadn’t heard any of the inner monologue that had just gone through her head.

She gave him a small nod as a goodbye and turned to leave, when his voice stopped her. “Betty, wait!” 

She turned back to face him, waiting for him to say something more, but he didn’t. Instead, he lifted his hand into the air, sparks flying out of the tips of his fingers almost immediately. But as fast as they appeared, they also disintegrated - leaving nothing but a small white piece of paper between his fingers.

“Take this,” he outstretched his hand towards Betty, waiting for her to take the paper. She reached for it blindly, her eyes not leaving his for a single moment. Only once the small paper was in her palm, she allowed herself to drop her gaze to examine the object.

A crown was drawn sloppily on one side, in his signature style. She flipped the paper over, finding nothing but a number there. Her eyes flicked back up to meet his immediately.

“Look, I’m going to be honest with you - there are reasons why I distance myself from Nephilim and they aren’t going anywhere. But I want you to have that,” he motioned towards the paper in Betty’s hand.

“Why?” she asked him automatically, unsure whether it was aimed on his first statement or the one that followed.

“You wouldn’t believe, so I see no point in telling you,” he shrugged as he dismissed her question. 

“I could,” Betty offered lightly, wondering what could make him so sure that she wouldn’t believe him.

“And how nice that would be,” he smiled, but the action didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Go, so Archie doesn’t need to wait up.”

With that, he turned her back at her, clearly letting her know that the conversation was over. 

She took a step towards him, tempted to wrap her arms around him and pull him into a hug that would speak for her emotions, for the ones that she wouldn’t dare to say out loud. But before she could take another one, she realised how incredibly stupid that would be.

So instead, she turned around and left without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you Maggie for betaing and not hating me for writing so much 💕 you're a gem.
> 
> i love every single one of you more than you can imagine, thank you so much for reading, for leaving comments and kudos on this story 💕 you're all so amazing and you deserve the entire world, but since i can't give you that, here is new chapter as a token of my appreciation. see you again next _thursday_ ;)


	7. chapter vii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for descriptions of violence, injuries and blood

“You’ve been unusually quiet tonight,” Archie said, but Betty didn’t even lift her head, instead continued walking around the abandoned warehouse and collecting her scattered knives.

The night had been going smoothly so far, most of the places they hit up were either empty or with just one or two demons, nothing particularly challenging. And honestly, Betty was itching for a good fight. She still felt residual anger bubbling underneath her skin, one that started pushing through once she left Whyte Wyrm and she really wanted it out for good. 

“We’re on patrol, there’s not that much time for talking,” Betty tried shrugging off the question, but she still felt Archie’s eyes on her as she reached for her last knife.

“You know what I mean,” Archie sighed.

Betty didn’t bother with answering this time, instead quickly heading towards the exit of the warehouse and leaving Archie behind. They had one more place to check out before sunrise and Betty couldn’t wait for it to be over and done, so she could retreat to the Institute’s training room and blow off the rest of the steam. She usually loved going out on patrols, but today's just simply wasn't enough to make up for her crappy mood and of course Archie picked up on it.

“Betts, talk to me, please,” Archie caught up to her, carefully grabbing her shoulder to stop her from walking away. “Look, I can see that something’s been bothering you. I can _feel_ that something’s been bothering you. _Parabatai_ , remember? You can’t hide stuff like this from me.”

Betty sighed, shutting her eyes tightly. Of course she couldn’t hide anything from him, what was she even thinking? 

“You haven’t been this angry in a long time,” Archie whispered, his voice barely louder than a whisper and yet, it was all Betty could hear. The warmth seeping from his hand around her shoulder soothed her, grounded her in the best way possible. And just like that, the words started spilling from her mouth. 

How the lack of information about the Tears of Wisdom frustrated her, how the lack of progress in search for Veronica’s mother made her more anxious every day. How her own mother kept looking down on her and essentially forbidding her from seeing her family. How much it hurt.

And she would continue and tell him about Jughead - about how he could go for teasing smiles and flirty words to stiff posture and cold shoulder in a matter of seconds. How he infuriated her with the stupid ring, giving it to her once again without a proper explanation. She would tell him all of that, but Archie pulled his arms around her and squeezed her tightly, pushing her head against his chest and just like that, the words died out on her lips. It was only then that she realised her cheeks were stained with wet streams of salty tears and that her breathing is anything but regular and calm. 

So, she tried focusing on the regular sound of Archie’s heart beating against his chest, slowing down her breathing until it followed the easy rhythm.

After few minutes, she pushed away from his embrace, quickly swiping away any residual wetness from her cheeks. She looked up, knowing fully that her eyes were probably still watery and red, but also that they were grateful.

“Next time, don’t bottle things up, alright?” Archie smiled at her, “I’m always here for you, you know that. And I know that talking won’t help us find Veronica’s mother or fix ours, but neither of those things is your burden to carry. And I know you can do that, _heaven_ , I’ve seen you do it since the day I met you. You are fierce and strong and unbreakable. But sometimes, you need to lay all of that off and just let yourself breathe. And I’ll always be by your side to help you with that, alright?”

Betty could only nod at the sincerity of Archie’s words. 

Probably realising that she wasn’t able to say much more right now, Archie decided to change the topic. “Let’s get this over with, so we can get back home and you can catch up on sleep.” 

“Yeah, let’s go,” Betty agreed, allowing the red-haired boy to take her hand and drag her through the dark streets of night New York City.

After few minutes filled with Archie’s chatter of how he had beaten Jason in training today - not that Betty particularly cared, but listening to his enthusiastic story-telling kept her mind occupied (and he probably realised that as well) - they reached the last address on the list.

“We’ve got a few reports of demon sightings from here, but it seems to be empty,” Archie said, pointing towards one of the houses. It was a three-storey building, which seemed to have been abandoned a long time ago, if one was to go by its state of dishevelment. 

“Do we know what demon?” Betty asked as she approached the entrance. The door was locked, but after drawing a quick unlock rune on the wood, it creaked open slowly. 

"No," Archie shook his head.

“Take the first floor and basement while I go through the upper ones?” Betty proposed and Archie just nodded in agreement, already heading down the corridor. They probably should stick together, both of them already a bit drained from the long patrol, but this way they would be done so much faster.

She pulled out a seraph blade from the back of her belt and let its soft glow shine through the dark rooms of the house. The second floor turned out to be scarily empty. With an empty house of this size and distance to the city centre, she would have expected at least some signs of people living there - be it trash or an occasional sleeping bag. But the fact that the rooms hadn’t been occupied in a long time sent a shiver down her spine. 

It was just as she reached the third floor, when Archie’s loud scream reached her ears, followed by a sharp stabbing pain in her side. 

She turned around immediately, running down the stairs as quickly as her legs allowed her without tripping, speeding through the first floor, knowing Archie must have definitely reached the basement by this time. 

Betty was running so fast she almost didn’t have time to properly angle her blade once a demon appeared in front of her. But thankfully, her instincts were quicker once again, turning her arms in a way that the blade was able to pierce straight through the demon’s chest.

But she wasn’t stopping, not yet - she needed to get to Archie. The entrance to the basement was just behind the demon’s body - it must have crawled out from there once it gotten through Archie. She ran down the stairs quickly.

There were three more demons in the basement, with what looked like three piles of dust by Archie’s body. _Archie’s body lying on the floor._ Even though the room was dark, Betty could still clearly see the glow of his blade reflecting from the puddle on the floor. _Blood._

She wanted to scream in pain - her right side, where her parabatai rune was etched into her skin, was in flames, burning with all-consuming pain. She wanted to run to Archie, to apply as many _iratzes_ as possible, to find a way to stop the bleeding, but she needed to take care of the demons first, otherwise she wouldn’t be alive much longer to help him.

Only three more demons left.

She looked them over as she reached for the knives in her thigh holsters. She couldn’t identify them, which definitely was a disadvantage, because she didn’t know where to aim. But the one she encountered upstairs seemed to be unable to deal with its chest being pierced, so she was counting on that doing the trick again.

A pair of her knives sunk down into the chest of one of the demons, turning it into sparkling dust. She was about to throw another pair at the second demon, but by the time she could do it, she needed to protect herself from the third one, which chose to attack her.

She quickly ducked away from the claw that it aimed at her head, using the movement to launch an attack at its legs. Her blade slashed through the creature’s skin, but the attack seemed to have no effect on it, except for spraying out a good amount of ichor in her direction. Betty huffed silently, taking a few steps back and reaching for another pair of knives. 

She managed to throw them this time, leaving her hand in quick succession, but neither of them hit the demon’s chest, instead one of them hitting the wall behind the creature and the other one sinking into its shoulder. But the shoulder turned out to be a more efficient target than legs, as the demon significantly stumbled back at the impact. She kept her eyes stuck at the two creatures and blindly reached for another knife at her thigh, only to find the holster empty already. _Fuck, how could she had already used up all of them?_

By the time her brain processed the reality and refocused on taking a knife from somewhere else, the demons were already too close, so she abandoned her plan of throwing and instead retrieved her second seraph blade. _Two blades for two demons, right?_

Fighting demons had always been challenging in its own away. You couldn’t try to reason with the creatures, you couldn’t really come up with any plan, because you never knew what to expect of them. Some demons were very stupid, falling for any small rouse you created, but some just filtered everything out and went straight for you.

Sadly, these ones seemed to belong to the second category. 

Betty felt sweat running down her face after few minutes of evading their claws and trying to get at least one hit. She managed to slash them at their legs a few times as well as the claws, but none of them seemed to really do anything to them except for realising sticky demon ichor. Her arms as well as a good portion of her neck and face were already covered with the substance and she could feel the demon blood slowly burning her skin and counteracting her angelic blood.

She needed to either wash it off as soon as possible or get rid of the demons, or she wouldn’t be able to keep fighting much longer. At least the agonising pain in her side stopped, although that wasn’t a good sign in any way. 

But she couldn’t allow herself to think about that, at least not now, not when there appeared to be an opening for an attack.

Betty launched forward quickly, using one of her hands to block the demon’s claw and the other to bury her blade in the demon’s chest. But the chest piercing didn’t work so effectively this time, giving the demon enough time to kick into her right knee and send her stumbling back with pain as it disintegrated.

She couldn’t stop her legs from moving her backwards, not if she didn’t want to end up flying to the ground. 

Which is probably what she should have done, but she realised that only once it was too late.

Once the sharp claw of the last demon ran against her back, tearing through all layers of her clothes as well as skin with one swift motion. 

Betty couldn’t stop the cry of pain escaping her mouth.

Her legs trembled underneath the pain the first demon inflicted by kicking against her knee and the second by slashing through her back. On an instinct, she used one of the blades as a cane to keep her balance as she turned around just in time to block an incoming attack with her second blade. 

Silently cursing herself for not applying a _strength_ rune or a _stamina_ rune before coming in here, she pushed back against the demon, mustering up all the strength she had left. She managed to throw it away from her blade and stumble a few feet back.

She quickly dropped the blade she used to block the creature’s attack and while still leaning against the second one, she went for a knife, this time from a different holster, one that was still fully stocked.

Even though her throw was sloppy at best, it still fulfilled its purpose and along with the damage that she caused by the knife that was still sunk in its shoulder, was enough to turn the demon into nothing but burning dust.

The room fell dreadfully silent, except for Betty’s heavy breathing and drops hitting a puddle. 

_Drops of Archie’s blood._

Betty practically ran over to where his body was slumped on the floor. 

She started drawing an _iratze_ immediately. There was no need to check for a pulse, she knew he wasn’t dead, she could still feel him. Very faintly, but he was there. 

But there was blood, a lot of blood surrounding his body. Betty pulled his shirt up, to inspect the damage - there was a deep looking cut running through his entire stomach area, but that wasn’t even the worst of it. No, the worst part was his blackening veins. _Venom._

_Fuck._

Betty drew another _iratze,_ even though she knew it wasn’t helping anything, so instead she took off her leather jacket and hoodie, quickly pressing the second garment against the wound to stop at least some of the bleeding.

_Think Betty, quickly, think._

They were at least a thirty minute walk from the Institute, a walk that she wasn’t sure she would be able to make in her condition. And most certainly not with Archie. And it wasn’t like she could leave him here either. She needed to call for help, but who? She pulled out her phone, opening her contacts immediately. But by the time anybody got here from the Institute, it might be too late. They couldn’t drag him back into the Institute, even with reinforcements, it would be too much of a risk. They would need to get a Silent Brother or a warlock here and that would take time- 

_A warlock._

_Jughead._

Betty’s hands quickly located the small paper in the pocket of her blood-soaked hoodie, typing the number into her phone with trembling fingers. By the time she finished, the paper was soaked through with blood and ichor, but it didn’t matter.

_Please, pick up, please._

When the phone had gone through six rings without Jughead picking up, Betty felt the little flame of hope she felt flickering out. But she wasn’t going to give up - she was going to call him again and again, until he picked up. She couldn’t bring herself to think about the fact that it was 4am and she was probably disturbing sleep of somebody who wasn’t even her friend, of somebody who seemed to either enjoy her presence deeply or be extremely irritated by it.

She hung up and dialled again.

He didn’t pick up, but she persisted, calling him again. 

And the third time really was a charm.

“Who dares disturb the High Warlock of Brooklyn!?” a angrily sounding shout came through the phone so loudly Betty’s hand jumped away from her ear in an attempt to protect herself from the loud noise, “Don’t you know how late it is?”

“You have to help me,” Betty managed to say through tears, not even realising that she was crying for the second time tonight.

“Well, call in the morning,” Jughead said dismissively and Betty’s heart almost stopped.

“Please, Jughead, I’ll do anything! Just help Archie,” Betty begged. She could hear Jughead sighing at the other end of the line and she braced herself for his refusal.

“Fine, but you’ll owe me big time, Cooper. What happened?” he asked.

Betty quickly rambled through the events of the fight, pretty sure Jughead didn’t understand half of her words because of how her speech slurred and tongue tripped over itself. 

“I’ll be there in five,” he said after she gave him the address and hung up. 

He was there in three actually, not that Betty counted or anything (she totally did, as it was the easiest way to distract herself from the injured Archie’s body on the ground).

She didn’t even look up when she heard his footsteps on the stairs, nor when he dropped on his knees next to her, warm golden magic already pouring out of his hands towards Archie.

Archie’s entire body flinched at the first contact, but then fell back down, as if in acceptance of the healing. 

“He is in no state to be moved, but I can’t treat him here. I need to figure out what demons you were fighting to create the antidote and I can do neither of those in here,” Jughead said simply. 

“Can’t you just snap him away?” Betty asked.

“No. It’s too far and he is too big and wounded. We’ll have to carry him through a portal,” he said, one of his hands still pouring healing magic over Archie’s body, while the other was already working on opening a portal.

The shimmering portal materialised by Archie’s feet almost immediately. 

“Can you carry him?” Jughead asked, not looking up at Betty.

Under any other circumstances, she could without a problem. But in her current state, she wasn’t completely sure, although she probably didn’t have any other option. Jughead needed his hands free to keep the magic going, so she just quickly nodded.

She slowly slipped her arms underneath his body, carefully picking him up off the floor. Excruciating pain ran through her back, she could feel the warm blood running down her spine. Every time she moved the weight of her (and Archie’s) body onto her left leg, she felt herself seconds from crumbling down to the floor. But she always just bit into her lip to keep a cry of pain from escaping her mouth and took another step.

Jughead must have noticed that, because he was immediately by her side, keeping one hand hovering over Archie’s chest and gently placing the other around Betty’s waist, allowing her to lean into him as she walked.

But as she crossed the portal, the whole world spun around her so badly, that not even Jughead’s arm could stop her from tumbling to the ground. Luckily, the warlock was quicker, moving one of his couches in her way and even though her knees still hit the floor, Archie’s body landed safely amongst the soft pillows. 

“Keep pressure on the wound, alright?” Jughead said quickly and Betty nodded absent-mindedly. Her whole body was hurting, not only from the cut on her back and kick to her leg, but also from being covered in the demon’s ichor. She was tired from the long patrol, from the fight, from the anger at her mother and fear of losing Archie. She didn’t have the mental capacity to argue or even think, not anymore.

“I need you to tell me everything you can remember about the demons,” Jughead said from somewhere across the room. 

“Black, taller than me but not by a lot. They had claws and as far as vulnerabilities go, chest worked well, shoulders did some damage. Arms and legs only sprayed ichor,” Betty rambled. In the very poorly lit basement, even that much was a success.

“That didn’t narrow it down almost at all,” Jughead said, “focus on me, Betty.” 

Confused, Betty snapped up her head, surprised to see Jughead crouching down next to her. _Wasn’t he somewhere over there just seconds before._

She didn’t get to ponder about how he managed to move around so fast, because his hands snapped up, fingers pressing against the temples of her head as he uttered something in what she thought to be latin. Her eyes closed involuntary and she felt her head becoming heavier against his fingers. 

“Think of the demon,” she heard Jughead’s voice, but it felt as if he was speaking through a curtain, his voice fogged and distant. Nonetheless, Betty did what he asked of her, trying to remember as much as possible.

But that wasn’t necessary, as after a few seconds Jughead removed one of his hands, letting her head fall into the one that stayed up. She didn’t feel strong enough to open her eyes, not for a couple more seconds. Betty expected Jughead to leave immediately, but his hand stayed up, allowing her head to rest in his palm, gently running his thumb against her cheek.

When she slowly opened her eyes once again, she was met with his warm smile but a worried smile. 

“I’m going to mix up a potion for him, alright? It’ll be just a few minutes,” he whispered and left before Betty could do even as much as blink. 

So she continued pressing against the wound on Archie’s stomach, watching his body closely as if it would give up if she stopped even for a second. 

She didn’t know how much time had passed before Jughead came back. He gently opened Archie’s mouth and poured a few drops inside, while chatting lowly some spell. A wave of golden magic then left his fingers and travelled smoothly through Archie’s entire body.

“Now go and take a shower so I can heal you afterwards,” Jughead said, but Betty didn’t react. She kept her hands pressed against her blood-soaked hoodie, staring at Archie’s chest, fearing to look away.

“Betty,” Jughead placed his hand gently on her shoulder, “he’ll be alright. But if you stay like this any longer, you won’t.”

That seemed to snap her out of her trance, her eyes looking up from Archie’s bloodied body to Jughead. “I can’t leave him,” she shook her head. He was her brother, he was her _parabatai,_ he was her best friend. She couldn’t leave his side, not with him barely holding on.

“Archibald isn’t the only one that got hurt tonight. Betty, if you leave the ichor on yourself any longer, you’ll probably pass out, especially with that wound on your back. So please, go take a shower and then come back, so I can heal you,” Jughead said and although his voice was soft, there was still a sense of urgency to it. 

“It’s fine, I’ll draw an _iratze_ and it’ll heal,” Betty opposed, which made Jughead sigh.

“Look, you will either go and clean yourself on your own or I’ll have to knock you out and do it myself. Your choice,” he offered. For a split second, Betty was tempted to ask him to take care of her - without knocking her out, of course - but as quick as that temptation arrived, it had left as well.

“I’m not leaving his side-” Betty growled, “I can’t. Not again.” She couldn’t leave him alone. It was her idea to split up, to cover the ground as fast as possible. If they hadn’t gone their separate ways, if she hadn’t proposed the idea, then Archie wouldn’t be left alone with seven demons. She would be there, right by his side, where she belonged and none of this would have happened. Archie would be safe.

“Darling, I’m not asking,” Jughead said, his tone harsher this time. 

Betty felt her hands trembling and throat tightening under the stress and tiredness of the night, but she wasn’t going to back down. “I don’t care. I have to stay here, he needs my strength.” _And I need his._

“If you stay any longer, you won’t have any strength left,” Jughead hissed through his teeth, but Betty didn’t even flinch. She could feel his judgemental gaze piercing her back, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to move from his side.

“At least let me finish healing him,” Jughead sighed, clearly understanding that Betty wasn’t going anywhere. He reached to her hands that were still pressing on her bloodied hoodie, slowly pulling them away so he could get rid of the soaked fabric.

Even though the veins on his stomach weren’t black anymore and the wound had stopped bleeding, Betty’s head still spun with fear as she looked at the damage. 

“It seems that all of the venom is gone,” Jughead hummed, probably more for Betty than for his own reassurance, “I’m going to close the wound now.” 

A warm golden magic started pouring from his palms onto Archie’s stomach, slowly repairing the destroyed tissue. Betty couldn’t tear her eyes from the vision - Jughead’s long ring-clad fingers hovering over her _parabatai’s_ bloodied stomach, almost bathing it in golden glaze. It was a mesmerising sight, one that she wanted to just soak in forever.

But somehow, the faster Jughead’s fingers moved, the heavier her lids became. By the time he was almost finished, she could barely hold her eyes open for few seconds at once. She gently propped her head against the couch, her forehead leaning against Archie’s shoulder - _he wouldn’t mind, right_?

After that, her thoughts became slower and heavier, until they were full of nothing but black ichor, red hair and golden sparks.

***

By the time Jughead finally stopped Archie’s wound from bleeding, he wanted to do nothing but crawl back into his bed and sleep for a week. He already knew he used up way too much magic today - with portalling around the city in order to get missing ingredients for the potions that were still brewing in his study, through what he planned to be a quick stop by Whyte Wyrm to fill up the stock and recheck the wards (both actions requiring substantial amounts of magic) but was prolonged by Betty’s presence and then by endless teasing by Toni once the blonde Shadowhunter left for patrol, to the current situation, pouring copious amounts of magic into Archie’s wound so he wouldn’t bleed out more than he already had - needless to say, he was about to have one hell of a magic hangover tomorrow.

“He’s going to be alright, so now go and take that shower please,” Jughead said softly in Betty’s direction, but his comment went unnoticed by the girl. 

Jughead tore his eyes away from examining Archie’s wound to Betty, whose eyes were now firmly shut and she was nodding off peacefully. Well, maybe not so peacefully if her body language was anything to go by.

He would have been a fool if he hadn’t noticed the state that she was in - in fact, when he arrived to the demon-filled basement, Betty’s disheveled state was the first thing he had noticed. Demon ichor covered her arms, neck and face, something that surely took a great toll on her energy; there was a scarily-looking cut on her back and she could barely stand on her left leg (and yet, she managed to carry Archie while he made sure the unconscious Shadowhunter didn’t bleed to death and the portal didn’t close on them). 

Upon further inspection, he scratched the initial prediction of Betty sleeping - she had definitely passed out. Her breaths were shallow and she didn’t nudge when Jughead poked at her shoulder or said her name. _Great, this is exactly what he needed - another passed out Shadowhunter in his apartment._

With a heavy sigh, he got up and walked to the bathroom to get a bucket of water and some towels to at least clean the ichor of Betty’s skin. Any other day, he would not bother doing any of this and certainly not the mundane way. But the waves of tiredness and exhaustion continued to crash over him and the nearing sunrise wasn’t even the main reason. The stretch of muscles provided by the movement and letting his magic relax would do him no harm.

When he came back after a few minutes, Betty was still in the same position as before - kneeling down, her body propped against the couch and head resting on Archie’s shoulder. It looked very uncomfortable, especially when he remembered her limping, but he decided to delay moving her, as it offered him an easy access to her back.

Her shirt was stained in blood from the cut and even though it was nowhere as near or as deep as Archie’s, it still sent a shiver down Jughead’s spine. He ran his fingers gently against the ragged rim of Betty’s skin, quietly examining the damage. Something felt off about the wound, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

He was about to call upon his magic, to give a nudge to the wound to start healing, when it hit him.

The demons the Shadowhunter duo encountered in the basement - they were all of the same kind. Lesser demons, not particularly skilled fighters (that’s why they usually stayed in packs), but with claws filled with a very nasty venom. One that slowly spread through Archie’s body, knocking him unconscious sooner than the blood-loss had a chance to do so. The one that coloured the Shadowhunter’s blood black, making the veins the venom had already reached easily visible. The one that he whipped up an antidote against, which he poured down Archie’s throat and sent through his body with a wave of magic.

An antidote, which Betty surely hadn’t taken.

And yet, there were no visible traces of the venom anywhere near her wound.

“How?” Jughead whispered more for himself than for anybody else. The demons weren’t big thinkers or strategists - they had no reason not to release the poison once they claws came into contact with the Shadowhunter. It wasn’t their decision to make, it was more of an impulse. So, how on earth, did Betty get away without it?

His mind was already spinning with the many possibilities, although neither of them really gave him any answers, only created more questions. And right now, overworked and exhausted, he knew better than to go down the rabbit hole of conspiracy theories. He needed to focus on healing the wound, then see what he could do for Betty’s knee and after that, just clean her off the ichor. 

So he did that.

He focused on his magic, sending gentle golden sparks soothing over the wound on Betty’s back, closing it little by little. There was nowhere to hurry and he didn’t want to exhaust himself by attempting to call on too much magic at once, so by the time he was finished with Betty’s injuries, the sky had already went through almost all of the rainbow’s colours, settling on light blue. 

It was only once he carefully started washing off the already dried ichor with his wet towel, that his mind started wondering and exploring the countless possible reasons once again.

The option of all of this being just a coincidence because the demon _forgot_ to release its venom was discarded quite quickly. It just didn’t make sense.

 _Could Betty’s body just fight off the venom on its own?_ Jughead wondered next. Theoretically, it was possible. But for that she would need to be in a perfect state, both mind and body and considering how upset she was at the sight of Archie and the extent of her injuries, that definitely wasn’t the case. Nevertheless, the venom would still cause her to pass out, which clearly didn’t happen. 

_Maybe she drew some rune that protected her?_ Jughead carefully catalogued all of the runes that covered Betty’s body while he was washing off the black ichor. And even though he was no expert on runes, he knew his basics and there was nothing but that on Betty’s skin. A thought of _iratze_ had crossed his mind, but he was pretty sure that the angelic healing rune would have been useless with a demon venom in one’s system. And it wasn’t like she would have had time to apply it, as she surely was too busy fighting.

 _So what happened? How could her body reject the venom on its own? How did she do that?_

_How did she do that?_

The question was followed by a memory of the last time he had asked himself that question. He didn’t really have time to think about it back then, at least not as thoroughly as he would have liked, but now, _now,_ seemed like the right time.

 _How did she see right through the perception spell he had used on his ring?_ Jughead saw the raw surprise on her face when he told her about the spell - she clearly didn’t realise he had used one, which only made it that more peculiar. The thing with perception spells was, that for somebody to see through one, they usually needed to know what they are looking for, otherwise it is almost impossible to slip through the barrier. And he would know - he invented the spell many centuries ago. 

So when Betty, not even a warlock or a faerie who are much more skilled in this sort of thing, saw right through it, nobody could blame him for being surprised. 

His hands glazed over her cheek, his fingers gently touching her soft skin. Even now, unconscious from the exhaustion, he could feel the power and energy that was bubbling underneath the surface. A type of energy that was vaguely familiar, but for the love of his life, he couldn’t seem to pinpoint.

A type of energy that filled his blood with a rush of adrenaline and excitement, that made his head spin and heart fluster.

A type of energy that scared him to the bone.

Jughead quickly jerked his whole body away, only then realising that his ears were ringing and his breathing was ragged.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank y'all for the lovely comments you've left under the last chapter, it means the world to me 💕 seriously, thank you so much.
> 
> and also thanks to Maggie for betaing and making me blush with her compliments. you are a real gift dear. 💕
> 
> i can't wait to hear your thoughts and feelings about this chapter in the comments below! see you next _tuesday_ (psa: i apologise in advance if the updates over the next two weeks will be a bit late/formatting will be off/whatever other issues, but i'm going away, so i'll have to post through my phone, which is mildly annoying, but what wouldn't i do for you)


	8. chapter viii

Betty regained her consciousness one sense at a time.

First, it was the warmth that hit her. A calming, soothing warmth, the one of early morning sunshine and cozy blankets. A one of peacefulness and safety. Her skin tingled with the sensation, blood surely rushing to her cheeks.

Secondly, hushed sounds reached her ears. A bird singing somewhere behind a glass, a car honking on a street, water bubbling vigorously. A low hum echoing through the room.

Next, it were the smells around her. A faint smell of burnt sugar and lavender lingered in the air, a smell that tried to ignite a memory in her; but her mind spun vigorously when she tried to look back. So she didn’t, instead inhaling the air once again, letting her lungs get filled up by her surroundings, this time full of smell of fresh coffee.

Her stomach growled at that, twisting painfully and bringing Betty’s attention to her dry throat and sour taste in mouth. She went on to lick her lips, her tongue stumbling over a coppery patch. Blood. 

Betty stiffened immediately, memories of the previous night coming crashing back to her without a problem now. The abandoned house, the demon-filled basement, Archie lying on the floor, fighting the demons, Archie’s wound, calling Jughead, Archie’s blood, Archie… She sat up immediately, her eyes snapping open with sharp intake.

Her gaze found Archie instantly - he was still lying on the couch that she dropped him on yesterday. His features were calm and relaxed, clearly lost in sleep. A relieved shaky breath left Betty’s mouth without her even realising it.

“He’s alright, don’t worry,” Jughead’s voice said, making her eyes move away from her sleeping best friend onto the warlock leaning against the kitchen entrance. “There’s some coffee in the kitchen,” he added, nudging his head towards the other room in an invitation.

Betty detangled herself from the blanket fairly quickly (although she might have toyed with the idea of just pulling the cozy fabric back over her body and falling back asleep for a few moments) and followed him to the kitchen. 

Jughead was leaning against the kitchen counter, a steaming mug placed firmly between his palms and his eyes glued to Betty as she poured the golden-brown liquid into an empty cup he had prepared for her. A silence settled over them, neither of them sure of how to start a conversation.

Betty brought her mug up, blowing over the coffee slowly and then tentatively taking a sip. The liquid burned her tongue and scratched on her throat, but anything was welcome if it replaced the dryness she had felt prior.

“Thanks,” she whispered before taking another sip. Jughead just nodded and brought his own cup up, slowly sipping on the coffee as well. 

Neither of them spoke again before their cups were all empty. 

“Betty-“

“Jughead-“ 

And of course they both chose the same moment to speak up. Jughead just chuckled, his head falling down the slightest bit and he motioned to her, letting her take the lead. Her head mirrored his actions, dropping down to stare at her hands instead of him.

“I just wanted to apologise for yesterday - I was in no place to call you and ask you for a favour, I’m sorry for overstepping. I’ll make sure that you’ll be properly compensated for everything you have done, so just ask for anything and it’s yours,” Betty rambled off quickly, not feeling brave enough to look up. After all, he was the High Warlock of Brooklyn - one of the most powerful warlocks alive, one known for his strong dislike towards Nephilim. One that she, in a heat of panic and stress, called and begged for help.

Her eyes cautiously dragged up, not stopping until they were met with his intense stare. Betty wouldn’t call herself an expert on the pair of blue eyes staring back at her, but even she could clearly see the emptiness they held now. It pierced right through her, making her shiver, but not with the usual anticipation, but with anxiety and coldness. 

A sharp chuckle left his lips as his eyebrows shot up. “Is that all? How very _Cooper_ of yo-” his teeth sank into his lip as if in an attempt to stop the words from spilling out, but they were too late. 

Betty took a slow breath in, her posture straightening immediately and an itch starting to grow in her palms, one that was just begging to be scratched. Or pierced through.

“I’m going to wake up Archie and we’ll be out of your hair,” Betty answered, her voice slipping into her polite diplomatic mode almost too effortlessly. She ignored the pang of pain that shot through her chest, rather choosing to exit the kitchen and go get Archie.

“Betty-” Jughead’s voice called after her, “you know I didn’t mean it like that.” 

She wanted to stop in her tracks, quickly turning to face him. She propped her arms against her hips and even though she knew she was in no position to get angry, she couldn’t stop neither the scowl that formed on her face nor the harsh voice that accompanied her next words. “Do I, _Forsythe_?” 

His entire body jerked at the sound of his own name, his blue eyes becoming shades darker in a fragment of a second. He opened his mouth to say something, but he seemed to reconsider it as he closed it back without a word. Betty just scoffed, shaking her head a little.

She walked over to Archie and shook his shoulder, the action easily waking up the sleeping Shadowhunter. “C’mon, we’ve got to go home. Everybody must be worried sick.”

Archie blinked at her few times, clearly disorientated and still half-asleep, but he nodded without asking anything. Betty knew well that Archie sometimes wasn’t the best at reading social cues, but even he could probably sense the discomfort and tension that filled both Betty and the air.

He got up, quickly collecting his discarded possessions around the couch whilst Betty did the same. They were heading towards the door in next to no time.

“Betty-” Jughead started once again, but didn’t continue as he met her gaze. She should have known better than to let her emotions get the best of her, she should be able to control her anger; but there she was, standing in Jughead’s living room and her eyes clearly filled with so much hurt that it rendered him speechless.

“Just let me know what you require as a payment,” Betty sighed. 

Jughead just shook his head and moved his hand up, swiftly summoning a glowing portal by Archie’s side. Betty suspiciously eyed it first, before returning her gaze to Jughead.

“You’ve both been heavily wounded and are exhausted - I’m not going to make you walk all the way to the Institute,” he explained and Betty nodded in understanding and gratitude. She offered her arm to Archie, allowing him to lean against her as his step were still little drowsy and walked him towards the portal.

“You know,” Jughead said, as she was about to enter the spinning mess of golden sparks, “a simple thank you would have sufficed.”

But before she could even comprehend his words enough to give him any kind of answer, she was standing in the Institute’s park, with the portal long shut behind her back.

***

Archie didn’t ask her anything while they walked to the Institute, nor while they briefed Clifford about what went down during their mission. He didn’t ask her anything while they both lied in the infirmary, surrounded by a handful of doctors and nurses, who ran every possible test on them to ensure there was no threat left. He didn’t ask her anything while she repeated that they were both okay to Jason and Cheryl for the hundredth time, nor while Veronica hugged them tightly and pretended that tears hadn’t ran down her cheeks.

But once all of the commotion around them died down, once Betty was finally alone and managed to slip into the training room, even though Clifford prohibited both of them from performing any physical activity at least for a day, and once her fists were angrily meeting the punching bag in quick motions, it was probably all the waiting Archie could take. 

Betty saw him from the corner of her eye as he sneaked into the room, but chose to ignore his presence, focusing solely on the feel of the hard vinyl underneath her knuckles. She had been here for a while already, sweat running down her body and knuckles burning with pain and stained with blood. 

“You should be resting,” Archie said, still standing across the room from her. Betty didn’t answer, just kept punching and for some reason, he took that as an invitation for him to walk over to her. 

“You could have at least wrapped your hands up,” he added softly once he caught sight of her bloodied knuckles. She was so eager to release her pent up emotions, her anger and anxieties from the fight with both demons and Jughead, that she didn’t even take a moment to wrap her hands in protective bandage.

“I could, but I didn’t,” Betty snapped back quickly, not sparing him a glance.

He sighed. “What happened, Betts?”

She didn’t answer, just punched harder. She expected Archie to leave or to try to talk to her, but he did neither of those things - instead, his hand shot up, blocking Betty’s right hook aimed at the bag.

“At least take on somebody who is able to fight back,” he offered with a cheekiness in his voice and Betty didn’t need to be asked twice. 

Without any hesitation or warning, she aimed her next hit at Archie, who quickly dodged away from the direction of her fist. He also avoided her next swing, and the kick that came soon after. But that’s where his patience ended and he launched to offence. 

It only took her a few moments to get completely lost in their sparring. She let go of everything that had been on her mind, focusing solely on the way her and Archie’s body moved against each other, always pushing when the other was pulling, always giving when the other was taking. The air around them quickly grew humid with their heavy pants, flying drops of sweat and heated bodies.

Eventually, Betty ended up evading Archie’s right hook by dropping down on the floor and quickly clenching her legs around Archie’s; knocking him out of his already unstable balance. He landed in her arms, with his back pressed against her chest and Betty quickly brought her arm up around her neck, holding him in the position.

Archie jerked to the side, but failed to remove himself from Betty’s grip as he landed face down with her on top of him. She sat on his hip firmly, using her arms to press down on his head and shoulder blade. He tried throwing her off by moving his hips or by pushing her away with his arms, but neither of the strategies worked, so he flattened his palm against the floor, hitting the hard ground few times in defeat.

Betty smirked to herself as she shifted away from Archie’s hip, choosing to sit on the floor to relax for a few moments. Her defeated friend turned around to look at her, still laying down on the ground.

“I think it’s safe to say we both needed that,” Archie huffed, his voice low with exhaustion.

“Arch, I’m so sorry.” The words slipped from Betty’s mouth before she could think twice and with them, the dam broke - a hitched breath accompanied by two streams of tears, one for each eye. 

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” Archie shushed her. He immediately sat up, reaching for Betty to bring her into his embrace, which she happily accepted. 

“If I hadn’t suggested we split up-” Betty started.

“Then I would have done it,” Archie finished before she could. “Betty, it’s not your fault, stuff like that happens. The most important thing is that you kept a cold head and took care of the demons and both of us. So thank you, for taking out the rest of the demons and making sure I didn’t die. You did a great job.”

Betty wanted to disagree - she didn’t. She didn’t save him, she didn’t do a great job. She didn’t save him, she allowed him to bleed there for so long, knowing fully it could have been the last moments of his life. She didn’t save him, she cried and shook by his unconscious body full of fear and anxiety. She didn’t save him, Jughead and his magic did.

He shouldn’t be thanking her, he should be thanking Jughead. 

As should she had done. 

Betty gulped, a different kind of guilt slowly spreading through her body. “How are you feeling?”

Archie just shrugged and pulled up his shirt as an answer. There was a faint scar across his abdomen, one that looked months, nay, years old. Definitely not hours. 

“But enough worrying about me, you’ve done lots of that yesterday. How are you?” Archie asked. Betty could hear the worry in his voice, she could feel it pulsating through their bond and yet, she couldn’t make herself admit her true feelings to her parabatai _._

“I’m great,” was all she pushed out through her teeth, her eyes falling shut immediately to stop her eyes from betraying her by doing something stupid as starting crying again. 

“You know I can tell when you’re lying.”

“I’m not. I really do feel great - my leg doesn’t hurt anymore and neither does my back. I’m as good as new,” Betty said.

“I know that, _heaven_ , I just witnessed that. But I was asking if you’re okay up here,” Archie said gently, his fingers coming up to his forehead with the last words.

He was staring at her with a sincerity in his eyes, one so strong and deep that her throat tightened around the air that she inhaled, making a small choke escape her mouth. Archie’s arm immediately shot up to touch her, to soothe her pain, but she stopped him with a simple gesture of her own hand, letting him know that she needed a second for herself.

That second quickly became more, but Archie waited patiently, sitting on the floor next to her silently as he awaited her explanation. An explanation she didn’t know how to give. Because how could she give him an insight into the whirlwind that was happening in her mind, if she herself lacked the understanding?

“I’m not,” she sighed. After all, this was Archie - if there was one person in the entire world around who she could let her walls down, it was him. Archie, her brother, her best friend, her _parabatai._ She trusted him with her life - on and off field alike.

“You wanna talk?” he asked carefully. He knew better than to push her to talk, but he also knew better than to just let it be.

“Another round first, then we talk, alright?” Betty offered. Archie sprung up to his feet quickly, outstretching his arm towards her. She gratefully accepted it, letting him pull her up on her feet and slipping into a fighting stance without a second thought.

But her emotions weren’t that easy to push down or to channel into her hits and kicks this time, which resulted in Betty landing hard on the floor, with Archie’s forearm pressed against her throat as he kept her pinned down.

“We really should talk, because this wasn’t you,” Archie shook his head and removed his hand from Betty’s neck, moving it to her shoulder which he squeezed supportingly. 

Even though Betty hated it, she had to admit he was right. Her mind was a mess of emotions and guilt and she needed to talk about it instead of letting her fists do the talking (she tried and it didn’t work). She was about to start speaking, when Archie’s brow furrowed and his hand moved away from her shoulder, travelling closer to her neck.

“Since when do you wear a necklace? Isn’t that against some safety rules?” he asked as his fingers curled around the chain that was peeking out from underneath her shirt, pulling the whole thing out before she could stop him.

Archie’s fingers slipped down the chain until they reached the heavy ring that hung at the bottom, palming the metal piece that suddenly felt ten times heavier. A silent whimper of “How?” slipped his lips.

Betty’s hand reached up to his, taking the ring out of his palm into hers, the feeling of the cold metal immediately grounding her. She squeezed it in her palm, letting the edges dig into her soft skin instead of her nails before finally speaking.

“He gave it to me,” Betty said. Her voice sounded low and raspy, as if it didn’t even belong to her, the words feeling foreign on her tongue.

“Gave it to you? Why?” Archie asked.

 _Why?_ Angel, like Betty knew. He said it was an apology gift, but who gives out something this valuable as an apology to a stranger? He said he wasn’t ready to have the ring back, so was that all there was to it? Did he just give it to her instead of throwing it out? But still, the ring had belonged to somebody he cared deeply about, so _why?_

Maybe because he trusted her, but that was before, before he started acting up all weird and secretive. Which started once they got into his apartment and Betty introduced herself. She thought back to that moment, remembering if she did something socially inappropriate or impolite, but nothing came to her mind. She offered to shake his hand and said her name-

_How very Cooper of you._

She didn’t think twice of it when he said those words, but now, now it was clear as day. Something must have happened, something which made Jughead resent all Nephilim. And all evidence pointed to the fact that her family had fingers in it.

“Betty?” Archie interrupted her train of thoughts.

“Hmm?” 

“Why did he just give it to you? It seemed pretty important to him or he wouldn’t have asked for it otherwise.” Archie was watching her with a careful glare, but Betty couldn’t bring herself to focus on him, not when her mind was reeling with the possibilities and reasons why Jughead had something against her family.

“He, even though he had every reason not to, just trusted me,” Betty said slowly, ignoring Archie’s question, “and I messed up. I deserved his cold behaviour.”

Betty knew Archie had dozens more questions, but somehow, he refrained himself from spilling all of them out. Instead, he took her hand that was still squeezing the ring into his and gently ran his thumb against her bloodied knuckles. “I’m sure it wasn’t just your fault, so stop blaming yourself, alright?”

“He saved your life Arch. I should have thanked him immediately.”

“You should have, but you didn’t. So what? It’s not the end of the world,” Archie shook his head, “and it’s definitely not good enough of a reason for him to act like a jerk towards you.”

“Now, that’s just your overprotective-brother genes speaking,” Betty chuckled.

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” Archie shrugged with a gentle smile on his lips, but then his tone dropped lower, gaining on seriousness in just seconds. “I know you don’t need me to watch out for you, but I am never going to not to. You are my sister and I’ll always stand by you and protect you. So just say the word and I’ll take care of him, High Warlock of Brooklyn or not.”

Even though she knew fully that Archie was deadly serious, she still laughed at his words. That was her Archie - light of her life, somebody who knew how to get through to her when she felt like she was drowning in her insecurities and emotions. Somebody who would always stand by her side, no matter how dark and dangerous that was. 

“Thank you,” Betty whispered, genuine smile settling on her face as her eyes met Archie’s. 

“Any time Betts,” he smiled back, “now let me take care of those hands of yours.”

Betty just nodded, watching him carefully as he took out a stele from his pocket and drew a small iratze on the back of her hand. She watched as the small red splits along her knuckles quickly dispersed into her skin, leaving nothing but some leftover dried blood covering her skin. Archie went on to take care of that as well; he brought up his thumb to his mouth, lightly wetting it with his tongue and then gently rubbing away the dried remains.

He was almost finished when the door to the training room opened and a messy head of red hair popped in.

“And I thought my dad made himself clear when he said no physical activity,” Jason said scoldingly, “but then, did I really expect either of you to just lounge around?”

“Did you come here to join us or scold us?” Archie asked, raising his eyebrow in an invitation.

“As delightfully as both of those options sound, it’s neither. The High Warlock of Brooklyn had just arrived to the Institute,” Jason said and Betty was sure her heart skipped a beat.

Archie’s grip on her hand tightened in a protective manner. “Alright… And? What does he want?” he asked. 

“Maybe payment for healing the two of you? I don’t know,” Jason shrugged.

“How can you not know?” Betty asked sceptically. 

“He said he’ll talk only to you.” 

Jason’s voice reached Betty’s ears, but it sounded more like a slur of sounds, not coherent and meaningful words. That couldn’t be right - why would Jughead want to speak only to her? Why not talk with Archie, who he was so excited to meet few nights ago? Or Veronica, with whose missing mother he had some sort of relationship? Or even Cheryl or Jason or any Blossom for that measure, who all hold higher and more respected positions than she does? Why pick her, when he practically threw her out of his apartment this morning? 

“C’mon Coop, it’s rude to keep the High Warlock waiting,” Jason hummed and Betty shared a worried look with Archie before getting up and following him out of the training room.

***

The silence that filled up Jughead’s apartment after the portal closed somehow felt heavier than the hurt look Betty’s eyes held as she walked away. He wanted to punch someone or something - how could he had done something so stupid? He was always cautious of what he said, realising fully the power words could hold, so how could he have let something so hurtful slip his lips just like that? This wasn’t like him at all.

He rubbed his hands across his face, trying to wipe out the regret and the exhaustion. His magic was still low, recklessly spending the small amount he managed to recover thanks to the half hour long power nap and three cups of coffee to open up a portal for the two Shadowhunters. He knew he needed to sleep this off, allow his body and magic to take a break, to rest and recharge, but his mind had, well, mind of its own. 

There was no way he would be able to rest without trying to figure out the mystery that was Betty Cooper.

He took out his phone and called Sweet Pea, who picked up on the fourth ring.

“This better be important or I’ll never forgive you for waking me up so early,” Pea growled to the phone.

“I need you to come over,” Jughead said simply.

“You better have coffee,” Sweet Pea said, his words quickly followed by a swirling sound coming from his kitchen.

“Pour me one as well,” Jughead shouted towards the kitchen area while he dropped down on the couch. The cushions along with the blanket were still warm, smelling faintly of his magic, sweat and vanilla. Unconsciously his lips formed a small smile and his fingers ran against the soft fabric of the blanket.

“Is that a smile?” Sweet Pea asked him and Jughead’s head shot up, meeting the suspicious gaze of his best friend. “Wow, you look like hell. Rough night?”

Sweet Pea walked over, placing a of lukewarm coffee into Jughead’s hand and then dropping to the couch opposite of him.

“You can’t even imagine,” Jughead hummed. Sweet Pea didn’t ask him to continue, at least not with words - but his slow sip from the mug and fixed gaze on Jughead were worth a thousand words. 

“You remember those Shadowhunters that I met up with a couple of days ago?” Jughead asked slowly. 

If there was one person who despised the Nephilim even more than Jughead, it was Sweet Pea. And Jughead despised them _a lot_. In the 400 years he had lived, he had crossed paths with them more often than he would have liked, but he could count his good memories of the meetings on two hands easily. He lived through the darkest days of oppression, he lived through the times that Shadowhunters were openly allowed and encouraged to hunt his kind along with other Downworlders, he spent years in hiding. But then, he also saw their good sides. He saw them working hard towards peace, he was there when the first Accords, the peace treaty among the Nephilim and Downworld’s factions, was signed, he was there when their kinds worked together rather than against each other.

But Sweet Pea wasn’t. Even though he celebrated his 50th birthday a few years ago, he hadn’t seen all of the good that _the children of Angel_ can do, if the right leaders hold the power. No, he only saw the rising insecurities and mistrust between the Downworlders and the Clave, ones that climaxed with the Lodge’s Uprising. An uprising that went on for four years and nobody of the _pure and good angel-blooded_ creatures did anything; everybody kept turning blind eye to the massacres on those with demon blood. 

For four years. Four years full of casualties, full of finding dead bodies randomly on the street, afraid to even approach them in fear that it might not be a stranger, but your loved one. Four years of trying to protect those who were too young or too weak to do it themselves. Four years of barely surviving. Four years of losing.

Losing battles, losing safety, losing their people. Losing their friends and families. Their loved ones.

To a warlock, 50 years of life is almost nothing, especially the first 50. It flows by quickly, almost in the blink of an eye, but it influences them the most. Because that’s when one forms opinions, builds friendships and relationships with immortals that will last for centuries. And for Sweet Pea, those years are tainted with blood, sweat and tears. Full of heartbreak and destruction. And the Nephilim had caused all of that.

“Yeah, did it finally come back to bite you in the ass?” Sweet Pea asked teasingly, although there was a hit of disgust in his voice.

“You could say that,” Jughead nodded. “The blonde one, Betty, called me at 4 am-” 

“How did she get your number?” Pea interrupted immediately, “Jug, you make everybody contact you by fire messages - there’s like three people who have your phone number.”

“Hey, it’s actually five people,” Jughead pouted, but Pea’s raised eyebrow clearly stated that he had just proved him right.

“Whatever,” Jughead continued with a roll of his eyes. “She and Archie, the red-haired guy, went on a patrol and to keep it short and to the point, everything went to shit. If the demon’s venom hadn’t knocked him out and slowed his blood flow, he would have bled out in few minutes and Betty-” Jughead paused, figuring out the best way to phrase the rest, “-well, the same thing should have happened to her.”

“What do you mean by _should have happened_?” 

“You’re going to say I’m crazy, but the wound on her back was made by the same venomous claws as the one on Archie’s stomach. Albeit, it wasn’t as deep or wide, but the venom should have been released as well, rendering her unconscious in a few seconds.” 

“But it didn’t?”

“She cleared off the remaining demons, had enough sense and cold head to call me, carried Archie through a Portal - while barely being able to stand due to a knee injury - and then knelt by his side while I prepared antidote. She ended up passing out from exhaustion only once I was almost finished with closing his wound.”

Sweet Pea’s brows furrowed, a deep wrinkle appearing in the middle of his forehead. “So, for some reason, the venom didn’t affect her?”

Jughead nodded. Healing magic wasn’t exactly his expertise, but still, he was pretty sure there was no such thing as having antibodies against demon venom. You can’t just go to a hospital and get a shot, it’s not as simple as the flu. He probably would make some calls, just to be certain, but that just wasn’t how things worked.

“That’s… Interesting,” Sweet Pea hummed, looking lost in thought as he sipped on his coffee. 

“That’s all you have to say?” 

“Give me a moment to think, for _Lilith’s-sake_ ,” Pea snapped back, letting out a deep sigh as he closed his eyes.

Jughead listened, letting his friend process the new information in his own pace. Confiding about this in Sweet Pea was the best decision he could have made - once the threat of Gargoyles was finally gone and dispersed all those years ago, his best friend chose to deal with his grief by diving deep into studying. And even though he insisted that he was doing it for his own academic betterment, to understand his abilities and magic better, Jughead could see how his eyes glistened and hands trembled. He had witnessed Pea’s nightmares and midnight screams more often than he let the younger warlock know, usually just sitting by his bed silently, either holding his hand or sending waves of calming magic to his body. 

But everybody dealt with grief differently and for some, it was by sitting down from dawn till he could barely keep his eyes from closing and reading, reading and reading. Following the final fights of the Uprising, Sweet Pea spent years locked in the _Spiral Labyrinth,_ a library containing all of the warlock’s knowledge. Jughead was pretty sure it would take a person centuries to read through all of the texts that the library held, but then, he was also pretty sure that Pea did it.

Once Sweet Pea returned back to New York after that, his magic was different. Before, Jughead would describe it as one of a child. Fickle, rocky and tricky. They often joked that Pea’s magic was like a puppy - it might have been excited to please it’s master, but sometimes it got too excited and rendered Sweet Pea unable to control it. But after those years of studying, his magic was no longer anything even close to that. It was always ready for him, obeying his every single command without hesitation. He also got more powerful, and even though neither of them would say it out loud, he was probably more powerful than Jughead now. 

_Knowledge is power,_ goes the saying and Jughead had it on good authority that it was a warlock who first came up with it. And Sweet Pea was a living proof of that.

Pea’s magic was never as strong or came as naturally to him as to Jughead. Jughead had a powerful bond with it, stronger than most warlocks (he was pretty sure it had something to do with his father; but then, it’s not like he was going to summon him and ask him - he’s certainly never trying that again), which allowed him to command the energy with much more ease as well as reach deeper into its reserves and abilities. But Sweet Pea worked his ass off and turned the tables around.

And honestly, Jughead couldn’t have been prouder. That in spite of his age and his terrible experiences with magic so far, Sweet Pea didn’t choose to abandon the warlock path, but focused on perfecting his abilities and rising to the top.

Sweet Pea’s mug hit his wooden coffee table with a loud clang, pulling Jughead’s attention towards his best friend immediately.

“I remember reading about a few things that might have had that effect - did anything else about her stand out to you?” Sweet Pea asked, his voice still not completely present.

 _Her breathtaking green eyes_ , Jughead almost said, but bit his lip before the words could slip out. “I don’t know if it is a big deal, but she saw through the perception spell on my ring?” he offered instead. 

Sweet Pea released a low hum as he nodded, taking in the information Jughead had shared with him. “Look, I’m not saying anything just yet, because my current theory seems too crazy to be true. I’m going to do some research, but _if_ it turns out I was right, we are going to need to be on good terms with her.”

Jughead winced at his words, a memory from this morning flashing through his mind. He let his emotions get the best of him, snapping at Betty for the smallest and stupidest reason.

“What did you do?” Sweet Pea sighed, resigned tone in his voice. “Or you know what, I don’t even want to know. This was already too much for this early in the morning. Just go and fix your mess.”

“I will - I just need to rest for a while, I drained myself a bit too much yesterday and I can already feel the hangover settling in. I’ll deal with it tonight, or tomorrow perhaps.”

Pea dropped his head back in frustration, his hand moving quickly up, summoning a portal with two swift movements. 

“Now.”

So Jughead, knowing better than to argue with his best friend, gave him a small smile and stepped through the portal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m really sorry for jughead’s behaviour (maybe almost as sorry as he is), but i swear everything will be explained soon ;) just hang on, alright?
> 
> but apart from that little apology, thank you once again for all of your nice comments and love for the previous chapter, you’re all amazing 💕 and special thanks goes to Maggie for betaing.
> 
> see you on sunday. 💕


	9. chapter ix

Jughead’s denim jacket paired with the same red plaid shirt he had been wearing in the morning stood out in the sea of black gear shirts and trousers like a sore thumb. The Institute’s Operations Centre was swarmed by Shadowhunters, going around their daily job as if nothing was happening, but everybody could see the side-glances they kept stealing. After all, it’s not just everyday that the High Warlock of Brooklyn appears in the Institute, much less uninvited.

“Betty,” Jughead let out a relieved sigh once his eyes met hers. She followed Jason through the room, stopping by his side, both of them facing Jughead.

“How may I help you, Mr. Jones?” Betty asked, keeping her tone professional and calm. 

She noticed the quick flickering movement of his eyes, his gaze running down and up her body in a mere second. Subconsciously, she straightened her back and squared her shoulders; arms moving from where they hung casually by her sides to behind her back. Betty couldn’t help but think that if her mother saw her right now, she would be proud - she had mastered the _best obedient soldier_ stance to perfection.

If he had been taken aback by her formality, he didn’t let it be known. “We need to talk, miss Cooper,” he offered, his voice mirroring hers in tone.

“Please, feel free to do so,” Betty answered, knowing that this wasn’t what he meant.

“The topic I’d like to discuss is much more suited for somewhere more-” Jughead quickly looked around the room, buzzing with people who definitely were more curious than were letting on “-private.”

Betty nodded diplomatically. As much as she would love to tell him to just get lost after the way he treated her this morning, she knew she couldn’t do that. She needed to be professional and hear out whatever it was that had been weighing on his heart - and maybe after that, she could send him away. 

“Alright. Take a walk with me?” she asked, her chin nudging slightly up, in the direction of the front door. 

“Thank you,” Jughead said. He was good at acting professional, but Betty still noticed the trembling exhale he let out afterwards, as relief washed over him.

The two of them walked towards the exit, with Jason shadowing closely behind her. Betty opened the heavy wooden door, letting Jughead out of the Institute, when Jason placed his hand on her arm gently.

“Just be safe, alright? I would hate if something happened to my favourite sister-in-law,” Jason whispered, his voice coated with care and worry.

“When was I not?” Betty quipped.

Jason rolled his eyes pointedly before answering. “Don’t make me count, because we’d be here a long time. Just - he’s a powerful warlock,” he shrugged, as if that was supposed to explain his worries. 

Betty almost winced at that and had to bite back a remark about how _being a warlock_ didn’t in any way imply that that person posed a threat. But that wasn’t an argument she was willing to get into, especially not now. Her eyes quickly jumped to Jughead, who already walked down the stairs in front of the Institute, waiting for her patiently few meters further.

“You have nothing to worry about - he wouldn’t hurt me.” Betty gave Jason one last smile before quickly jogging down the stairs and walking over to Jughead.

“Shall we?” she asked him, motioning towards the park. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, falling easily into the pace Betty had set. They walked a few meters in silence, both probably trying to get far away from the Institute before starting any conversation.

At the end, it was Jughead who deemed that the distance was large enough and spoke. “Betty, I-“ 

“Wait, let me go first,” Betty silenced him quickly, knowing she needed him to hear her out before saying anything. 

“I’m sorry. For calling you in the middle of the night and demanding your help. You didn’t owe me anything and you had every reason to hang up and let Archie die. But you didn’t. You helped me, you saved Archie’s life and honestly, I don’t think I will ever be able to repay you for that. I’m sorry I came off as rude by not thanking you straight away, but hear this - Forsythe Pendelton Jones the III, I’m more grateful for your help than I can put into words. I’m indebted to you for that. When the time comes and you’ll need a favour, no matter how big or irrational, I’ll make sure you receive it. You can count on me.” The words just spilled from her heart, all of the pent-up emotions from the previous night and this morning bubbling to the surface with them. 

Betty hesitantly looked up to scan his face, finding his jaw slightly dropped and eyes opened wide. A quick surge of panic ran through her body - had she messed up? Maybe he didn’t want a favour - who would even be interested in something like that? Such a stupid idea. “Or you - you name your price. Money, books, artefacts - there's a plethora of things in the Institute’s vault, _heaven_ , even in Riverdale. I could-“ 

“Betty stop,” Jughead said firmly, waving his hand in a silencing motion. Betty ceased her ramblings immediately, her eyes falling down as her cheeks surely flushed pink in embarrassment. 

“The favour sounds just fine, alright, darling?” Jughead asked with a tentative smile and Betty found herself nodding almost immediately. “And thank you for explaining, but actually, it’s not why I’m here today.”

“It is not?” Betty asked, her head falling slightly to the side as her curiosity peaked.

“No. It might surprise you, but I didn’t just drop by to demand your gratitude or payment,” Jughead shook his head. 

They stopped by a bench, Jughead sitting down almost immediately and the motioning over to Betty to join him. She obliged, dropping down to the wooden surface next to him.

“I actually came to apologise. I acted like a dick today - I shouldn’t have lashed out like that. I am not - My relationship with Shadowhunters isn’t exactly the healthiest one, as you might have noticed,” Jughead chuckled, his fingers nervously playing around with his rings.

“I have,” Betty nodded slowly.

“Then you understand. Or probably not,” Jughead huffed out. He stopped fidgeting with his rings, only to desperately run his hands across his face. 

He seemed to be struggling with finding the right words, something Betty understood probably more than anybody else. So she slowly reached over and gently placed her palm on top of his knee, drawing small circles with her thumb into the fabric of his thick jeans. He didn’t jerk away at her touch, which she considered a victory and an invitation to continue.

So she did, allowing her whole body to relax next to him as well, to loose the rigid and soldier-like posture she had back in the Institute and instead, replace it with peacefulness and calmness. 

“I know this will come off very cliché, but you can talk to me, Jug. And even though I’m probably the last person you would pick, I’m here and willing to listen. Let me understand,” Betty said, her tone soft but almost pleading, so lost in the moment of calmness that she didn’t even notice the nickname that had slipped from her lips.

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me,” Jughead shook his head lightly. His eyes fell back down to his hands, his fingers quickly picking one of the rings to fiddle with. “You don’t want to hear what I have to say. 

“Maybe let me make that decision?” Betty offered with a small smile. She had no idea what was weighing down on Jughead hard, but it surely couldn’t be that bad, right?

“I’m just afraid you may not understand,” Jughead tried.

“I won’t, unless you explain,” Betty counteracted immediately. 

“Fine, just promise me one thing.”

“Sure.”

“Just remember the reason why I’m telling you all of this,” Jughead said slowly, making sure Betty understood his every single word. “That although, for some reason, unbeknownst to me, I trust you, even though I don’t trust generally trust any Nephilim. And especially not the ones carrying the Cooper name.”

His words might as well have been a punch to the gut, because that’s how Betty felt. It made sense, of course - the way he distanced himself from her immediately after she had revealed her last name, the snarky comment containing her surname made this morning. But still, the words of mistrust and almost hatred leaving his mouth hit her hard. 

“I can’t even tell you when it started, but I’ve been running into your family for centuries and out of all of the times our paths crossed, not once was it was a memory I’d like to savour. Always too demanding, barking out commands as if I was nothing but a slave to them and then leaving without as much as a simple _thank you.”_

Betty’s heart twisted painfully at Jughead’s words, her own actions flooding her mind quickly. She called him, she requested his service and she hadn’t even thanked him.

“That’s why I overacted today. I don’t know why or how, if it is because you so effortlessly and selflessly killed that demon to protect the werewolf couple, or if it is because you are quick-witted and really clever, or if it is just because of your beautiful eyes, but I trust you. And that just struck a bad nerve,” he sighed, a relief after releasing those words washing over his face.

Betty on the other hand wasn’t sure how to comprehend what she had just heard. Did he just compliment her mind? And called her eyes beautiful? _What_? 

“But to be honest, all of that isn’t the real reason for my mistrust. Sure, it hadn’t helped, but that was, and for the most part still is, the way the Downworlders are treated by Shadowhunters. It’s improving, but the decades of oppression and racism won’t disappear just overnight,” Jughead shrugged. He fell silent after that, as if unsure whether he should continue.

“So what’s the real reason?” Betty asked, prompting him to continue talking.

“How much do you know about Hiram Lodge and who were his Gargoyles?” Jughead asked silently after a few moments of silence. 

“Not much - most of the reports and documentation from those years were sealed or destroyed, as many of the involved were pardoned, the Clave thought it would be wise to seal all of the available records in order to allow them to live their lives peacefully. But as much as they want all of us to believe that, the truth is that those files would just prove that most of the highest-ranking officials of Clave were once part of Gargoyles and did Lodge’s bidding,” Betty said. She always found it strange why the Clave chose to seal all of the documentation of that time, ensuring that nobody knew exactly what went down and who participated.

“Yeah, that sounds like Clave to me,” Jughead chuckled, clearly reminiscent of the many times the Clave had done something incredibly stupid and irrational just to save their own face. “They believe firmly that if you don’t have access to the history, you won’t be tempted to repeat the disasters that the ones before you had managed to start. For once in their life, they should listen to mundanes. They have this great saying - if you don’t know the history, you’re bound to repeat it.”

“So, you’re saying that this had happened before? The Uprising, and all of that stuff?”

“Oh, and how many times. But it never got this violent or long. Hiram Lodge had a certain charm, one that worked well to gain loyal followers as well as the sympathies of the Clave.”

Jughead paused again, maybe to think about his next words or just to give Betty a chance to tell him to stop, but when she didn’t speak, he continued.

“Believe me when I say I could talk for days about the horrors that went down throughout those four years of his reign and that by the time I’m finished, you’d hate Shadowhunters with a burning passion. But that is not my goal and never will be,” he said, taking in one deep calming breath. “So, remember that as I tell you about what was the last battle with the Gargoyles we had.”

The words leave his mouth slowly, as if they had a mind of his own and would much rather choose to stay safely in rather than be released into the world, for anybody to hear. 

“Was that the one with the werewolves?” Betty asked cautiously.

Jughead nodded. “I take it you’ve heard about it.”

“A little. There was this family, Featherheads, right? A lot of the Downworlders came to their aid, but the Gargoyles killed almost all of the participants,” Betty said, trying to recall as much as she could from the short text she found in one of the books back in Riverdale’s library. With hindsight, she wasn’t even sure if that was a book - the sparse personal entries and handwritten texts made her believe that it was somebody’s diary, stashed safe and deep in the library, among books nobody ever reached for. 

“Ah. Should have expected you to know your history,” Jughead nodded approvingly, which only made Betty blush.

“I may have stumbled upon somebody’s diary in a library and gave into the temptation,” Betty admitted with a small shrug, “to my defence, it was just left there, on a shelf among so many other books! I didn’t even realise it was somebody’s diary long after having finished it.”

“Hey, I’m not judging you,” Jughead smiled, “it must have been a hell of a read.”

“You would think so, but it really wasn’t. The person rarely mentioned anybody’s name or specifics of any events. And even if they did, most of the stuff was just them complaining about their daily responsibilities, rarely talking about Lodge or the Gargoyles.”

“So you read the entire thing and it never once occurred to you that it is somebody’s diary?” Jughead asked. His smile widened, until the point where a laugh bubbled out from his throat, the happy sound making Betty’s stomach twist with her own happiness. 

“Yes! I thought it was just fiction! You know, a really bad one, but a work of fiction nonetheless!” she tried defending herself, but it only made Jughead laugh harder. 

She rolled her eyes at him, but didn’t fight the tugging at the corners of her lips, allowing for a smile and a small laugh to escape from them.

“Well, I can’t deny the fact that I’ve always loved snooping around and mysteries,” Betty said slowly after Jughead’s laughter died down, gently prompting him to continue his story. 

He clearly understood her hint as his smile quickly dissolved and gaze dropped down. 

“Yeah, the Featherheads. A lovely family, really. They had three kids - a seven, a five and a one-year-old. The mother was a part-time teacher in a local nursery, the father worked in a hospital. They rarely participated in the New York pack’s dealings, choosing to focus on living their mundane lives to its fullest, but they both were valued and respected members. So when the word got out that they were about to be attacked, Pop, who was back then the alpha of the pack, asked all of the Downworld for help. Handful of werewolves, couple of Seelies, about half of a dozen of vampires and three warlocks, including me, agreed to come and help protect the family.”

“We believed it would be enough - after all, the Gargoyles were planning on going after a family of two adults and three children - they didn’t need too much manpower to overpower them.” The solemn expression that lied on Jughead’s face spoke more than thousands of words could. 

“But it was a trap,” Betty breathed out suddenly.

“It was,” Jughead nodded. “And nobody realised until it was too late.”

“How?” Betty whispered. The images of what the battlefield must have looked like flooded her mind, each thought more terrifying than the one before.

Jughead sighed heavily before continuing. “There was this girl, a Shadowhunter and clearly a Gargoyle member as well, who approached one of the werewolves, telling him about a horrible attack that the Lodge was planning. She explained how she hated the man and everything he stood for and how she wanted to help the Downworlders because she believed in the Accords and equal rights. We were sceptical, of course, but we listened to what she had to say and prepared adequately. Turns out, she wasn’t lying. Everything happened as she said it would and that night we’ve successfully protected a werewolf couple and killed handful of Gargoyles. The next time she contacted us, we managed to protect a small group of vampires.”

“The third time, she told us about the planned attack on the Featherheads. She said Hiram was to send a handful of Shadowhunters to attack them, but that he’s picking his best and strongest this time. She said to be prepared for a strong attack. So we sent the word out, calling on people to join. The werewolf couple and the group of vampires we saved were among the first, eager to repay us for saving them.”

Betty knew already where this was heading, but she couldn’t find the strength to stop Jughead from speaking.

“They were also among the first to die, once the warehouse we were hiding in got stormed by dozens of Gargoyles, with the woman that had _helped_ us on the front lines.”

Still, Betty felt her breath leave her lungs and never return; her nails sinking into her skin and drawing blood.

“I can stop, if you want to, but that still isn’t the full story,” Jughead said carefully, “and it’s only going to get worse from here.”

Betty wasn’t sure how it could get worse and she really didn’t want to find out, but before she could do anything to let Jughead know that, she nodded slightly at him. “Continue,” was all that left her lips and so he did.

“Do you know how warlocks come to this world?” Jughead asked. The sudden change of topic took Betty aback, so it took her a few seconds to refocus and nod.

Of course she knew. It wasn’t a particularly nice or pleasant way, as it involved a demon raping a mundane woman, often times disguised to look like the victim’s lover. The mother usually didn’t find out the child wasn’t as normal as she thought until a few years later and many of them couldn’t live with the idea of birthing something _unnatural._ Warlock babies often died in the hands of their parents or abandoned on the city streets.

“Well, my mother had always dreamed of having a baby girl, but for the love of her life, she couldn’t get pregnant. Remember, this was 400 years ago, so there was no way to figure out if she was just unlucky or ill. She just never got pregnant. So when one day, a mysterious gentleman arrived to the town and promised my mother to get her pregnant, she immediately threw herself onto him, abandoning her husband at the time.”

“And he kept his promise - my mother was pregnant in just a few weeks. But when I was born, she was nothing but disappointed; as I clearly wasn’t the girl she had dreamt up. The man had long left town by that time and she had no way to contact him. So, she sheepishly returned to her husband and as any rational parent would, she took her anger and regret on me,” Jughead said, his voice coated with sarcasm and hatred.

Betty wanted to tell him that it was alright, that she understood more than anybody, but for some reason, she really didn’t want to interrupt his story, feeling like it would be rude and intruding. So she bit into her tongue and continued listening.

“I was about ten years old when my warlock mark showed up and with that, my powers staring manifesting,” Jughead said. “Least to say, my mother was not very pleased about my horns.”

Being a half-demon reflected on warlock’s appearances in form of warlock marks - a physical feature that differentiated them from mundanes. Colourful skin and hair, antlers, tails, scales, tentacles - you name it and there probably was a warlock carrying the said feature. Most of them glamoured them, in order to better fit among mundanes as well as the rest of the Downworld. It almost never was something they wore proudly, showing off to the world. Betty quickly realised what an honour and show of trust it was for Jughead to just casually mention his warlock mark in a conversation. But she didn’t have the time to be taken aback by this display of honesty, because he continued speaking.

“She tried everything she could to suppress my powers and to destroy my mark. Once she realised that the unnaturalness must have been caused by some type of demonic presence, she brought me to the closest church in hopes that they would magically cure me. Unsurprisingly, they didn’t, but they allowed me to use their library and long story short, I found a demon-summoning ritual in one of the books.” 

“You didn’t,” Betty gasped and Jughead just nodded.

“I summoned my father - not the most pleasant demon, let me tell you that. But still, I begged him to give my mother another child, a baby girl this time, to make all of her anger go away. So she would take me back and love me as she loved the other baby she dreamt of,” Jughead said solemnly, lost in his memories and emotions. “But she didn’t. Take me back or love me. In fact, she died just a few days after giving birth.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear-“ Betty started, but Jughead silenced her with a wave of his hand.

“Don’t. I don’t remember a single time she had treated me with kindness and love. And neither did her husband, my mundane father. I wasn’t even surprised when he tried to blame me for my mother’s death. So I did the only thing my stupid young brain could come up with - I told him that he wasn’t really my sister’s or my father. I thought it would hurt him enough to stop him from pouring out his anger on me, but it was too much for him to handle. So he hung himself.”

A heavy silence settled amongst them, only occasionally broken by a child playing somewhere nearby or birds chirping in one of the park’s trees. Betty understood too well the feeling of not being loved by her parents whilst the sibling was always the star. But still, parents, even the shittiest ones, they are there to offer some sense of stability. A sense of home and belonging. And losing that, at such a young age must have been devastating.

“As you might know, it is very rare for warlocks to have families. The relationships we build with fellow immortals tend to run deep, as they become the only constant in our long lives. But no matter how close you get, they are never your blood. It’s never the same. And a part of me, even before knowing about immortality and the long life I was about to lead, already understood that. And I made sure that while raising Jellybean, she received all of the love she would have from our mother, all of the affection I never had,” Jughead said, his voice coming off shaky with the last words. 

His gaze was still on his hands, his fingers still idly fiddling with his rings, but now longer with just small and random ones. Betty didn’t know if he did it purposefully or mindlessly while he talked, but the silver ring with a crown etched into its surface was now off and being rolled around between his fingers.

“You love her,” Betty said slowly, not really wanting to distract him from his thoughts.

“I did,” Jughead agreed and the past tense didn’t fly over Betty’s head. Instead, it flew directly to her gut, punching her hard and strong, knocking the air out of her lungs.

“I still get nightmares of that night, of that fight. Full of red bloodbath, white-glowing seraph blades and deep orange sparks. It took me ten years to stop seeing the moment she died playing on the back of my eyelids every single time I closed my eyes. But the guilt, the blame, the self-hatred, that’s never going to fully disappear.” Jughead’s voice was trembling by the time he finished. 

Not able to find words to tell him how sorry she felt, how Jellybean surely didn’t deserve to die, Betty did the next best thing - she moved across the bench and wrapped her hands around his body, pulling him into a tight embrace. 

“Hey, listen to me - it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t kill her; somebody else did. You are as much of a victim as she is,” Betty whispered softly into his shoulder, hoping that he would find her words soothing and calming.

“You sound just like Sweet Pea right now,” Jughead murmured with a small chuckle, but the laugh fell silent immediately after. “He loved her so much. I don’t think there are words to describe how madly and deeply in love the two of them were. And yet, despite those feelings, he didn’t blame me. Not once.” 

He pulled away from Betty’s hug after that, wiping away a stray tear that had escaped his eyes before finally lifting his gaze to meet hers. 

“He had no reason to,” Betty said slowly.

“But he had - I was the one who asked them to join me. If I hadn’t, they would probably be somewhere on the other side of the world, enjoying warm sunlit beaches or exploring a wild rainforest. They would be nowhere near the battlefield, nowhere near danger and death,” Jughead shook his head. 

Betty understood where he was coming from - sadly, she had gone through the same process a few times already. Clifford put her in charge of many missions and not all of them went smoothly. And even though none of the casualties were ever somebody that close to her, she couldn’t help but feel guilty whenever the reason for somebody getting hurt was her decision. 

But with having to carry that responsibility, that burden, she had learnt how to deal with it. How to accept that it wasn’t her fault. 

“Yeah, you asked them to come, but in the end, it was up to them. They made the decision to help with protecting an innocent family of werewolves. The only person to blame is the one that did the actual act of killing. And that wasn’t you.” Betty didn’t even realise when was the moment that her soft and soothing voice transformed into firm one. The words were heavy and full of power, making Jughead sit up a bit straighter.

“You seem to know what you’re talking about.”

“I do. So, trust me when I say this - it wasn’t your fault. Blaming yourself won’t do you any good. And, I’m pretty sure that your sister would hate for you to spend the rest of your life wallowing in self-pity,” Betty said, her voice still firm, but softening quickly before delivering the last few words. “She would want you to be happy.” 

“Wisdom beyond her years,” Jughead hummed appreciatively, probably more to himself than to Betty. “But yeah, I know that you are right. And honestly, I’m a lot better than I was a few years ago. I still blame myself to some extent, but I have realised long ago who the real villain is.”

“The person who killed her,” Betty nodded.

Jughead mirrored her expression, but didn’t say anything. From the way his whole posture went rigid and his expression fell, Betty could presume that this was the moment he had been building up to the entire time. An uncomfortable feeling settled in her stomach and her throat dried out in the expectation of what was to come. And as much as she didn’t want to, a small part of her knew what words would leave his mouth next. 

Betty always loved uncovering clues, connecting the dots and revealing the truth. And now, all of the hints were pointing to one answer. An Answer she really didn’t want to be the truth.

“To make matters even worse, it was the same woman who led us into the trap,you know, as if the whole universe wasn’t enough of a joke already,” Jughead said, his gaze dropping away from Betty’s quickly, but she knew immediately what was going on. She would recognise a stalling technique whenever.

“Jug…” Betty said, her voice both a whisper and a beg.

His eyes flicked back to Betty, his gaze finding her easily. “I’m so sorry, Betty,” he whispered and subconsciously, she braced herself for his next words. “And it’s okay if you won’t believe me or won’t want to talk to me ever again. But you asked me to talk, to let you understand. And so I did - I talked about things I haven’t in centuries.”

“I wanted to understand, yes,” Betty nodded. “And I still do.” _Or did she?_

“Alright then,” Jughead said solemnly. “It took me a few weeks to figure out her name, but once I did, I almost broke down into laughter. Because of course, out of all Shadowhunter families, Alice had to be a Cooper.”

It didn’t matter that Betty expected to hear her mother’s name leave his lips and that she tried mentally prepare herself for the shock. No, there was nothing to stop the air from leaving her lungs or from her gut painfully twisting, making her want to vomit. From her eyes filling up with tears and from her ears starting to ring so loudly she could barely hear her own thoughts.

Her mother, her always-follow-the-rules mother, was a Gargoyle and killed for Hiram Lodge. Her mother, who did nothing but kiss the Clave’s ass, who did nothing but praise their laws and teachings. Her mother, who cared about the image of their family more than about the family itself. Her mother, who never allowed a single misstep.

And yet, as much as Betty wanted to be the revelation shocking, it wasn’t.

She was pissed and angry - for having the truth kept away from her. She was disappointed - for her parents didn’t think that she had a right to know. 

But then, the news still didn’t surprise her as much as it probably should have. Because that’s exactly how her mother was - secretive, prejudiced and proud. She would have never willingly admitted to have taken part in something that was now frowned upon. Instead, she did the only thing she could think of to make everything better - become the picture-perfect soldier and ensure that her daughter did the same, probably realising that she couldn’t restore the Cooper name on her own.

“Betty-“ Jughead said gently, reaching out to her, but her body involuntarily jerked back. “I’m really sorry. But you deserved to know the truth,” he whispered, this time not trying to touch her.

“Yeah, I did.” The words left her mouth without any prompt, her brain running on autopilot, fogged by anger and disappointment. Her heart ached, from the betrayal. From all of her mother’s words, praising the importance of following the law and obedience. 

Family had always been everything to her; the name, the legacy, it always came first. Every decision she made, it was never for her, but for her family. For her parents, who never treated her like a daughter, for her sister, who could never understand the weight Betty had to carry on her shoulders every day.

“I need some time, to think,” Betty whispered, getting up from the bench and turning away from Jughead’s perplexed expression.

“Take all the time you need,” Jughead’s voice reached her as she walked away, “but, please, call me after?” There was a hint of desperation in his voice, almost as if he was pleading her. 

But Betty couldn’t think about that, at least not know. Not when everything she knew, all of her beliefs and foundations were shaking from their cores, only seconds from completely crumbling down and taking her with them. 

So she did her best to keep herself from falling apart as she quickly strode through the park towards the Institute. And as she walked through the Operations centre, where Jason pretended to be working, but came to her side the moment she opened the door. And as she told him with a small voice that it was nothing important and that she was just tired. And as she walked past her bedroom, and past Archie’s one as well, straight to the training room.

Only once her muscles were burning with the same raging fire as her heart and mind, she allowed herself to let those emotions roam freely, losing herself in their whirlwind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... and so we learn everything. hope you enjoyed the amount of bughead interaction in this chapter and the insight into jug’s past. hopefully you aren’t that mad at me right now.. i swear, everything is going to be fine, so please trust me.
> 
> once again, thank you for all of your love underneath the last chapter 💕 maggie is the best for betaing, as always.
> 
> see you on thursday with the next update. xx


	10. chapter x

Betty threw herself into work in the days following her conversation with Jughead - spending most of her days assisting Cheryl with looking for Veronica’s mom (an investigation that had been going a lot slower than any of them would like), helping Veronica with her training and studying, volunteering to patrol almost every night. She saw the concerned looks that Jason gave her and could feel Archie’s worry pulsing through the bond, but she just found herself unable to stop, to take a break.

Because doing that would leave her alone and vulnerable to her thoughts and she wasn’t sure if she could handle that. 

And thankfully, only a few days later, a pleasant distraction in form of Polly had presented itself.

“Betty!” her sister’s excited voice sounded through the halls of the Institute. Betty almost dropped the tablet she had been holding at the sound of her name, turning quickly and just in time to fall into Polly’s hug.

“Polls! Weren’t you supposed to arrive only in the afternoon?” Betty asked, reluctantly letting her sister go out of the embrace so she could get a proper look at her.

“I was, but I really wanted to get ready with you,” Polly said, her expression soft and voice pleading. Betty had to chuckle - this was so Polly - batting her eyelashes a few times, making her voice tremble and lips pout in order to get anything she wanted.

“Of course - anything for you. Let me just finish up really quickly and then I’m all yours?” Betty asked and Polly nodded eagerly. “Jason is in the office by the way,” Betty added quickly before returning to the mission report she was going through with a handful of other Shadowhunters.

“Thanks,” she smiled warmly and quickly turned to walk in the direction of the office. 

“Just go with her Coop - you deserve the break. You’ve been working like crazy for the past few days, we can finish this without you,” one of the Shadowhunters, Dilton, said gently, snatching the tablet from her hands. 

“It’s alright - she can wait for a few more minutes,” Betty argued. They had to finish this meeting now, as the vampire den they’ve been researching needed to be taken care of urgently, meaning they were planning on hitting it tomorrow as soon as possible (well, after all of them had some time to relax after tonight’s wedding).

“She’s your sister and she’s getting married tonight, you should be by her side. And, correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m sure you’ve already planned everything out for the mission, right?” Dilton said and Betty opened her mouth to correct him, but quickly closed it as she realised that the file on her tablet suggested otherwise.

“Fine. I’ll just send you the plan and we’ll go through it on our way there tomorrow, alright?” Betty said, admitting her defeat with a pointed roll of her eyes in Dilton’s direction, but his wide grin was too contagious for her to be mad at him. 

“Go and have fun for once!” he shouted after Betty as she made her way through the Operations Centre towards Jason’s office.

There, she not only found her sister and her soon-to-be husband, but also Cheryl, who had taken all of Polly’s attention, talking animatedly about  _ angel  _ knows what. So, she let the two girls continue in their conversation and instead of joining or interrupting, she leaned against Jason’s desk, her gaze quickly meeting his.

“Nervous?” Betty smirked at him, her eyebrows shooting up in question.

“Not a single bit,” he shook his head and a comfortable smile settled on his face. “I’ve been waiting for this day for years - I love Polly and I can’t for her to finally be mine and here permanently, not only for a few days a month.”

“And about getting the Institute?” Betty inquired more. As a wedding gift from his parents, Clifford said he was stepping down from his position as the Head of the Institute and wanted Jason to take over, with Polly by his side. The decision didn’t come as a shock to anybody - after all, there had been a lot of whispers of Penelope getting offered a position of a main historian back in Riverdale and because the Blossoms had been running the New York Institute for decades now, it was only natural for them to pass it onto Jason. 

“I don’t know if you have noticed, but I’ve been running the whole place over a week already,” Jason shrugged, “officially, my parents are still in charge, but it’s me who had been making all of the calls.” Betty nodded, having noticed the absence of both of his parents, even more in the last few days.

“You’ve been doing a great job,” Betty said, smiling proudly at him.

“Thanks. But that being said, don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been overworking yourself,” he said, his voice dropping few octaves lower. “You should take a break after the wedding, no missions, no patrols, nothing. Not only you deserve it, but you also need it.”

Betty released a deep sigh, really not wanting to argue with Jason, especially not on his wedding day. “I’ve got a job to do, I can’t just take a break.”  _ I can’t just stop working, otherwise my thoughts will become too much. _

“Fine, don’t agree now. But know that tomorrow, it won’t be just a suggestion from your friend anymore, but a direct order from the Head of the Institute,” Jason said with a diplomatically cold-cutting voice. “Now please go and save Polly from my dear sister, or I won’t have a fiancé to marry tonight.”

He dismissed her with a wave of his hand, not giving Betty a chance to retaliate in any way. Was he seriously benching her? Jason, out of all people? Somebody who saw first-hand how hard-working and determined she was? Somebody who knew her success rates, her patrol numbers? Archie might have been one of the best fighters of this generation and Cheryl might have been the fiercest and quickest one, but neither of them poured their heart and soul into their work, giving their everything like she always did.

But today wasn’t the day to argue with Jason about that. Today was supposed to be about him and Polly - there would be plenty of time to talk him out of this nonsense tomorrow.

“You ready to go?” Betty asked as she approached Polly.

Her sister eagerly nodded, immediately bridging over from the conversation she had with Cheryl to the floral arrangements she had planned and how they matched with her hair.

Betty listened to her ramblings absent-mindedly, following Polly as she walked around the Institute and showed them all of the decorations that had already arrived. She tried her best to pay full attention, but it was as if a fog was hovering over her thoughts, making it impossible to focus on anything fully. A fog created by her swirling emotions of betrayal, disappointment and anger, a fog that pushed her into an autopilot.

“Hey, you ok?” Cheryl asked her silently as Polly started gushing over the four-course dinner they had planned.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Betty asked, giving Cheryl a best fake smile she could muster.

“Jason had never been good at whispering,” Cheryl shrugged. Of course she would have heard everything they had talked about.

“I’ll talk him out of it tomorrow,” Betty huffed, turning her attention back to Polly, clearly signaling to Cheryl that the conversation was over.

They listened to the wedding plans for few more minutes before Veronica joined them.

“You must be the famous Veronica Lodge,” Polly said, extending her hand towards Veronica with a formal smile.

“It’s Gomez, actually. I might have my father’s blood, but that’s where the connection ends. And as apparently family names and legacies matter a lot in the Shadow World, I’d much rather be associated with my mother’s family than his,” Veronica quipped back, shaking Polly’s hand politely.

A frown flickered across Polly’s face, but was quickly replaced by a small smile. “A wise choice; nobody would want to be associated with such a monster.”

The comment hit Betty like a ton of rocks; Jughead’s words rushing back to her ears, making her stomach clench painfully.  _ Her - no, their - mother used to be a Gargoyle, Hiram’s friend and follower, ensuring that the Cooper name would be tainted forever. Their mother made sure their name  _ would  _ be associated with a monster like that _ .

She probably would have allowed her thoughts to spiral, until the moment they became too much to bear and she would need to excuse herself and disappear into the training room, where she could use the punching bag as an explanation for her bloodied hands, but thankfully, a quick succession of vibrations in her pocket pulled her out of the downward spiral.

Betty reached for her phone, frowning a little as she saw the name on the screen, but opening the messages nonetheless.

_ Jughead: I know I said I’d give you time to deal with what I have told you _

_ Jughead: But I really need to talk to you _

_ Jughead: And by you, I mean only you _

_ Jughead: It’s about the Tears of Wisdom _

_ Jughead: Can we meet up? _

“Hey, Polly, something came up and I really need to go and-“ Betty started quickly, but was interrupted almost immediately.

“Can’t it wait Betty? It’s my wedding day and I need my big sister by my side,” Polly said, her voice pleading and face innocent.

Betty just sighed, quickly weighing her options. She could say that it was important and work-related, but then Cheryl would demand to know and Jughead clearly stated he wanted to talk to her alone. She could try to sneak out, but she knew Polly and the girl had probably the entire day packed with activities that would require her presence and undivided attention. 

“Alright, let me just make one quick call, I won’t be long, I promise. Just get started without me?” Betty offered. It took Polly a few seconds before nodding in agreement, asking both Cheryl and Veronica to join her while she got her hair done. The three girls quickly disappeared into the Institute’s hallways, probably heading to Polly’s room where somebody was already waiting to start with the preparations. 

After they disappeared behind a corner, Betty swiftly walked towards the winter gardens, hoping that they would provide more privacy than the busy Operations Centre or any of the Institute’s hallways, where you could barely breathe without somebody noticing. And luck was on her side, as she discovered the gardens to be completely empty.

She quickly dialed Jughead’s number, hoping that he wouldn’t mind a call instead of a text and started pacing around.

Clearly, it was of no trouble, as he picked up after the second ring.

“Betty,” he sighed into the phone, his voice sounding raspy and tired.

“Hey. You wanted to talk to me?” Betty asked, cutting straight to the chase. As much as she enjoyed talking to Jughead, she knew she should be getting back to Polly as soon as possible.

“Yeah. Are you free? I can portal over, or portal you here, or we can go anywhere you’d like,” Jughead offered quickly.

“Actually, it isn’t a good time right now,” Betty said slowly, “my sister is getting married tonight.”

“Oh,” left Jughead’s mouth, with a small pause following right after. “Send her my best wishes.”

“Seriously? I should just casually mention that the Nephilim-hating High Warlock of Brooklyn is blessing her marriage?” Betty asked.

Jughead’s throaty laugh sounded through the speaker, echoing through her mind and crashing over her body with warmth and happiness. “Yeah, alright, it would be weird. Who is she marrying?”

“Jason Blossom. And they are taking over the Institute. So things have been a little crazy around here lately,” Betty said. 

She didn’t even realise how easily they fell into the small talk or how widely she had been grinning while she waited for his responses - at least not until she stopped pacing around nervously and instead chose to sit down by the wall, her breathing calm and steady probably for the first time today.

“I can’t say that I know much about him, but he’ll surely make a great head of the Institute,” Jughead hummed, his voice sounding a bit distant, “although he wouldn’t be my first pick for the position.”

“Oh?” Betty asked with a surprise, “enlighten me, who would you pick?”

Jughead just laughed at the other end of the line, the sound sending a wave of shivers down her spine, but it was the furthest thing from uncomfortable.

“As much as I’d love to discuss that with you, dear, that is not the reason why I contacted you today,” Jughead said, swiftly changing the topic and evading her question gracefully.

“You mentioned something about the Tears?” Betty asked, her voice and posture firming up almost immediately. This was a business call after all.

“Yeah, but it really isn’t something to be discussed over the phone.”

“How urgent is it? Because unless you want to come to the wedding, I don’t think I’ll get a moment alone for the entire day.”

“Betty Cooper, are you inviting me to come to your sister’s wedding?” Jughead asked her, his voice full of amusement and teasing.

“What? That’s not what- But if you want-“ Betty stumbled over her own words, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Relax love, I was just joking. As much as I would love to talk to you today, me showing up is definitely a bad idea. We will talk tomorrow, it won’t go anywhere.”

Betty sighed in relief - although the thought of seeing Jughead again wasn’t an unpleasant one, she couldn’t imagine the commotion that would be caused by his presence at a wedding full of Downworld-hating Clave officials and well, her mother. 

“Alright, I call you first thing tomorrow?” Betty offered.

“How about we discuss my information over breakfast? Say I pick you up at 10?” he offered instead and for some reason, blood rushed into Betty’s cheeks and stomach twirled.

“Yeah, that sounds lovely,” she hummed happily.

“Amazing. Now go and enjoy the wedding. And don’t go getting into any trouble, alright?”

“Thanks, and I’ll try to do both,” Betty answered and hung up before he could question her about why she wasn’t sure she would enjoy it. She knew he would understand, or at least try his best to, but still, there was no point in burdening him, right?

She quickly got up from the cold floor and headed towards Polly’s room, when another message came through.

_ Jughead: If it gets too much - at any point - just give me a call, alright? x _

She smiled to herself as she typed a quick reply, thanking him for the talk and the offer. Her fingers hovered over the  _ x  _ for a few seconds, before making her mind up, quickly tapping the key and the send button before she could change her mind and delete the terrifying letter. How could two simple crossed lines invoke so much anxiety in her?

Betty didn’t let her mind ponder about that though, quickly shoving the phone inside her pocket and entering Polly’s room, where she was welcomed with cheers and happiness of the three girls.

Everything was going to be fine.

***

And everything was fine.

The preparations all ran smoothly and without a single hitch, the constant chattering of Polly, Veronica and Cheryl turned out to be a lot greater distraction than Betty could have anticipated. The day flew by in a whirlwind of laughs and conversations and by the time the wedding was about to start, she felt lighter than she had in days.

So, as she walked through the aisle after the first notes of their wedding song had started, carrying a small cushion with a stele for Polly and a heavy golden bracelet for Jason, the smile on her face was wide and genuine. 

Jason, along with Archie as his best man and a Silent Brother as an ordainer, were already standing on the small podium they had built, a happy grin plastered all across his face as he awaited his bride. And as soon as Betty joined him on the podium, her position mirroring Archie’s, who stood behind Jason’s back, Polly stepped into the aisle.

Even though Betty had already seen her sister, she was still left breathless at how goddess-like she looked. Her hair was plaited in a long braid, with white flowers placed around randomly. Her make-up was subtle, but somehow still easily visible. And her dress… Betty thought the dress that Polly had picked for her - tight, shimmering with dark golden sparks - was beautiful, but it seemed like the most boring piece of fabric when compared to Polly’s. It was white, with golden ornaments etched into the skirt and top, making the whole dress shine with every movement in the late afternoon sun.

Betty could hear Jason let out a sigh, but it was anything but heavy or stressed - no, it held a clear disbelief at the image he was seeing. The look of pure happiness and love he held in his eyes was enough for Betty’s heart to skip a beat for them.

Polly reached them in no time, accepting the hand Jason had offered her and stepping onto the podium. 

_ Attention,  _ the Silent Brother’s voice sounded throughout their minds,  _ the ceremony is about to commence. _

With the music playing lowly in the background and sun shining softly, bathing the pair in golden rays, Polly turned to Betty, taking Jason’s cuff from her cushion and making quick work of fastening the heavy metal band around his wrist. Jason then copied her movements, but giving her a long necklaces with a teardrop-shaped diamond instead.

_ It is time for Jason Blossom and Pollyanna Cooper to mark each other with the Wedded Union rune. A rune on the hand, a rune on the heart - a union is born,  _ the serene voice of the Silent Brother entered their minds once again. 

The rune on the block in the middle of the podium started glowing almost immediately, so Polly reached for her stele, gently tapping it against the rune. After the tip of the stele started glowing with a soft golden sparks, she moved it towards Jason’s wrist and drew the intricate design with few easy swipes of her wrist.

After she was finished, Jason repeated her movements, but choosing to draw the rune a little bit higher, on an empty spot on Polly’s biceps.

Both of the runes continued shining golden for few more seconds and then slowly fading into the regular black colour. 

Betty wasn’t sure if the Silent Brother said anything more, because her whole attention was focused solely on the pair in front of her, who were looking like the happiest people to ever walk the earth. And after they both leaned in to kiss each other, Betty didn’t even feel bothered by the spike of jealousy that hit her - no, she was too proud and happy for that.

***

The wedding dinner ran as smoothly as the ceremony and before Betty even had the time to realise what was happening, she was dragged onto a small dancefloor by Cheryl, who was quickly replaced by Veronica, then by Archie and then by both of the newlyweds. Even Dilton asked her for one dance and albeit the only thing they discussed was tomorrow’s mission (if there was one person who was a bigger workaholic than she was, it had to be Dilton), before she finally excused herself, in a desperate need of water and a sitting break.

She was just refilling her glass, as her mother approached her table, her stride purposeful and ice-cold. Betty wasn’t naive enough to think that she would be able to hide away from her vulture-like gaze for the entire evening, but she sure as  _ heaven  _ was going to try. And that plan seemed to be working well enough, well, up until now.

“Mother,” Betty greeted her with a polite head nod.

“Elizabeth,” her mother copied her movements. “What a beautiful ceremony, don’t you think?”

Betty would have been taken aback by her mother’s small talk, if only the rage she had been trying to stuffle out the entire last few days didn’t start bubbling up right now, clouding her thoughts and making her fists curl, nails digging into her palms.

“Yes, Polly did an amazing job with planning,” Betty hummed. 

“That she did. And also with picking Jason - oh, what a wonderful husband is he going to be!” her mother gushed, sipping slowly at her red wine, but all Betty could see was a glass full of blood of innocent Downworlders. She gulped and averted her gaze quickly, trying to shake off the dark thoughts.

“Jason is a wonderful man,” Betty said slowly, deciding that agreeing with whatever her mother had to say would be the best way to go about the conversation. One more minute before it would be polite to excuse herself - she can survive one more minute.

“So, what about you?” her mother asked and Betty dragged her eyes back to Alice’s face, eyebrows shooting up in question.

“What about me?” she asked, unsure of what was the purpose of that question.

“Elizabeth, you’re twenty already - by that age, I was already married and pregnant,” her mother sighed heavily.  _ And in the Gargoyles, so excuse me if I don’t follow your life advice,  _ Betty wanted to add, but bit into her lip before the words could leave her mouth. She wasn’t going to make a scene, not with the wedding going this good.

“Work had been keeping me busy,” Betty offered as an explanation. And it was true - work had been keeping her busy. But then, it wasn’t like she made any effort to try and date or anything like that; she didn’t even know any eligible guys that she could think about dating.

Well, maybe she knew one. And although she wasn’t sure if she could describe him with a word  _ eligible _ , she was completely certain that she wasn’t telling her mother about him.

“And while I admire your passion for work, you have to think about how it makes us look! To have a twenty-year-old daughter still unmarried and unbearing a child, what a disaster!” Alice’s horrified gasps accompanying her words made Betty’s stomach clench only stronger, making it harder and harder to keep her calm posture.

“Nobody makes a big deal out of it, mother,” Betty answered quickly, having to stop herself from pinching her nose in frustration. She wasn’t going to give Alice any more leverage to scold her for her  _ inappropriate  _ behaviour.

“Riverdale is always full of whispers,” Alice retorted quickly and Betty rolled her eyes before she could think twice. 

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, young lady! You need to find a suitable bachelor, the sooner the better.” Her mother looked around the wedding attendees for a second before turning back to Betty. “What about that Doiley boy? He must be a gentleman, he asked you for a dance!”

Betty huffed out a small laugh. Dilton was a nice guy, he not only worked his ass off, but also his legs and arms; Betty always enjoyed having him on her team, knowing he took any job assigned seriously. Maybe under other circumstances, they would have made a great pair. But definitely not in this universe, as she still could vividly remember a memory of walking into the training room and expecting it to be empty, only to find Dilton and Ben kissing each other too passionately for such a public space. He sought her out shortly after, offering a small apology for what she had to witness and a plea to keep it to herself, both of which she accepted without a problem. After all, she considered Dilton (and even Ben) to be her friends.

“I’m not his type,” Betty said simply, hoping her mother would leave it at that.

“Well, Riverdale is full of suitable partners for you. If you just-“ Alice started, but Betty really didn’t want to hear the rest, so she let her hand shoot up, silencing her mother with a quick wave.

“I’m not going back to Riverdale to look for a husband. My friends, my job, my whole life is here. This is my home and Riverdale-“ Betty paused for a second, finding her mother’s eyes quickly before continuing, “- I simply don’t belong there.” 

She didn’t belong among the stuck-up Clave officials, who believed that the same laws that worked centuries ago should be applied now. She didn’t belong among the prideful Shadowhunter royalty, ones whose family names and legacies were too valued and important to let them do any proper job except for sit around and complain about everything. She didn’t belong in the city she grew up in, into the city that formed her into the person she was today - emotionally repressed and deprived of any life goals. And most importantly, she didn’t belong there, with her parents, who by every day, seemed more and more like strangers.

“Elizabeth-“ her mother started, but her voice got drowned out by a commotion on the other side of the venue. A scream that overpowered Alice’s words made both of her heads turn, Betty’s breath hitching almost immediately.

Because there, among the pretty white flowers and a long buffet, stood Hiram Lodge in a flesh.

Acting on instinct, Betty’s arm dropped to her side, fingers reaching for one of the knives, only for them to come up empty. Oh right, Polly made her leave the holster behind, saying it would be visible through the dress and  _ who brings weapons to a wedding? _

Well, apparently Hiram Lodge and his Gargoyles do, that’s who Polly.

Betty was about to run out, head Archie’s way, or Polly’s, or anybody’s - just do something other than stand around pointlessly as more and more Gargoyles reached the ceremony, when her mother’s arms pushed her aside, hiding her away behind her own body. If Betty’s blood hadn’t already been boiling with rage, it would probably start now. The one time her mother chooses to pretend to be a good and protective one had to be right now?

“Get out of my way,” Betty seeped, forgetting all about proper manners. She needed to go and help her friends, to ensure none of them die, as all of them were surely already in the middle of the chaotic fight. And even though there was almost twice as many non-Gargoyles as the Gargoyles, the numbers were useless against their weapons.

“I’m not letting you anywhere near that man,” Alice barked back, starting to push Betty the other way.

“If you worry about him poisoning my mind, then stop. I’m not you.” The words left Betty’s mouth before she could stop herself and with them, a huge rock fell off her heart. 

But as good as it felt watching her mother’s face morph from surprise, through shock, into something that might be described as a regret, Betty didn’t have time to deal with that. Instead, she pushed by her figure, jogging towards the mess of bodies on the dance floor.

She located Cheryl’s red hair fairly quickly and she allowed herself a second to smirk - she stood back to back with Jason, both of them already in possession of Seraph blades. She tried looking for Polly next, but not seeing her blonde braid or white dress anywhere, hoping that she hid somewhere safe. Although Polly went through the entire Academy-mandatory training, she was never one to enjoy fighting (or any physical activity for that matter). Her not being anywhere near the battle was probably for the best.

“Betty! Get Veronica!” Archie’s voice sounded throughout the noises of fight and Betty’s eyes quickly snapped in his direction. He just dodged a left hook from a guy that was about twice his size, barely having time to evade his next attack.

But as much as Betty wanted to help Archie, he was right. Hiram Lodge was here and it would take a fool to not figure out what he was after.  _ His daughter. _

Betty quickly spun, her eyes searching for Veronica’s raven locks or her purple dress, locating her after few seconds by the edge of the floor, struggling in a fight with a petite woman, whose movements were far too quick and deadly.

Betty practically ran to Veronica, her dress tearing on the side while doing so, but she couldn’t care less. Together, they took care of the woman, Veronica knocking her out by breaking a chair against her head while the woman’s attention focused on Betty. 

Betty then quickly picked up the woman’s Seraph blade and when her search for any additional weapons turned out empty, she reluctantly passed it onto Veronica. When it came to combating bare-handedly, Betty’s training with Archie gave her a huge advantage. Well, maybe not a huge one, but certainly bigger than Veronica had.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Betty said quickly, grabbing onto Veronica’s hand and pulling her into the Institute’s direction.

“No! We have to help-“ Veronica tried protesting, but her pleas fell silent fast.

“We can help by getting you out of Hiram’s reach,” Betty retorted quickly. It pained her to leave the battlefield, but they couldn’t let Hiram take Veronica - she didn’t deserve that.

“But they need- Betty, look out!” 

But Veronica’s warning came a fraction of a second too late, as by the time the last words left her mouth, a knife had already sunk into Betty’s thigh. If there wasn’t an incredible pain running through her entire body, she would have laughed at the irony.

“Fuck,” she huffed silently, leaning against Veronica’s side. Their way to the Institute had been cut off by three Gargoyles and turning around only revealed two more, blocking off their path back.

“What are they waiting for?” Veronica asked, directing her question towards Betty, when none of the Gargoyles made their way towards them.

Betty was about to answer that she had no idea, but a strong voice was quicker to speak. “Me.”

Hiram Lodge joined their group, his suit looking sharp and untouched, as if he hadn’t just gotten out of a fight.  _ Well, it’s not like he actually fought, he had people for that, right? _

“Way to make an entrance,” Veronica whispered and Betty huffed approvingly - she was right.

“I wish we were meeting under different circumstances,  _ my mija,  _ but I guess that even I can’t control everything, right?” Hiram said. His voice and posture radiated confidence as he approached the two of them.

But Veronica was having none of his shit - her arm quickly outstretching once he got close enough, the tip of her blade stopping mere inches away from his neck.

He didn’t seem fazed by her actions though, instead, a deep laugh escaped his throat. “I see you got to play around with some toys,” he hummed, his voice sounding strangely proud. “I approve, but I would much prefer it if you wouldn’t point this at my throat. It’s pretty sharp and I could get hurt.”

“That’s kind of the point,” Veronica snorted, keeping her arm out steady and Betty couldn’t help but to feel a small spark of pride flash through her. 

“Careful there,  _ mija.  _ I’m the only one who can stop them from slaughtering all of your  _ friends _ ,” Hiram said, spewing out the last word as if it were an insult.

“Then why don’t you do it,  _ daddy _ ?” Veronica asked, her voice cocky, but yet sweet.

“The blade at my throat, for starters,” Hiram hummed. 

Betty could feel the hesitation flash through Veronica - her entire body stiffened and her arm faltered a bit. She didn’t know what to do, so Betty made the decision for her, by slowly reaching over and pushing Veronica’s arm down, until it hung loosely by her side.

“Smart choice,” Hiram said. 

“Now tell them to stop,” Betty demanded, speaking up for the first time. Her voice sounded strangely rough and hoarse, probably from the pain that was coursing through her veins. She didn’t even have a stupid stele on herself to apply an iratze.

“Your wish is my command, Elizabeth,” Hiram said, a devilish grin spreading across his face. “But I’m going to need something in return.”

Betty spared only a second to go over her options - either agree, ensuring that all of her friends would be safe and dealing with whatever he asks of them later, or disagree and let the Gargoyles slowly kill of everybody she loves. And by the sounds that were still coming from the park, she wasn’t sure if she could risk it.

“Whatever you want.”

But those words didn’t come out of her mouth. No, instead, the words were laced in a heavy spanish accent. Veronica’s accent.

“Tell them all to leave,” Hiram said to one of his Gargoyles, the man only nodding in understanding before saying something into his earpiece. Hiram then turned his attention back to Betty and Veronica.

“Now that that’s sorted, shall we?” he asked and before either of them could question him, a swirling portal materialised in front of them. 

Betty quickly scanned their surroundings, locating the warlock standing behind Hiram’s back quite easily.  _ Evelyn Evernever _ , the name immediately popped into her mind, remembering Archie mentioned that not everybody believed her to be dead. Well, Betty didn’t either, at least not anymore.

“After you, ladies,” Hiram said, motioning towards the portal.

It wasn’t like they had any choice in the matter - they would be dead in seconds if they tried anything. So Betty leaned against Veronica’s side and together, they stepped into the unknown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... and as i finally make the polly/jason tag come true, the plot starts to thicken - sorry for the cliffhanger. i love y’all.
> 
> the wedding clothes inspired by  this iconic malec scene  which you should all watch at least twice a day for clear skin and good health.
> 
> thank y’all for the love underneath the last chapter, i hope you won’t kill me now. and thanks for maggie for betaing. 💕
> 
> see ya on tuesday.


	11. chapter xi

Jughead stepped out of the portal a few minutes before the clock hit 10 am, using the little extra time he had to walk closer to the Institute. It wasn’t like he was going to come in, but there was no problem with waiting on the doorstep.

But as the minutes passed by quickly and there was still no sign of Betty, he grew more and more restless. She didn’t strike him as somebody who had a habit of running late and certainly not as somebody who wouldn’t let the other person know if something else came up.

He checked his phone with a small frown forming on his face when he didn’t see any missed calls or new messages on the screen. What was taking her so long?

After nervously pacing around for a few minutes, spending most of the time just uselessly trying to persuade himself that it was probably nothing, she just surely overslept after the celebrations yesterday, he decided that maybe going inside wasn’t such a bad idea. He was a High Warlock, he could survive being around a bunch of Shadowhunters for a few minutes, right? And if it meant he got to talk to Betty soon, he had to do it - things that Sweet Pea discovered in the Spiral Labyrinth were very important, to say at least.

If he could have it his way, he would have portaled in yesterday, but hearing Betty talk about the wedding on the phone, about spending time with her sister, he felt a pang of jealousy and longing in his heart, remembering all of the times he let work drag him away from Jellybean; regretting all of those times. Betty would be fine, he wasn’t going to stand in the way of her and her sister’s time together. And it wasn’t like one night would make that much of a difference. 

Jughead quickly jogged up the stairs leading towards the Institute’s entrance and raised his fist to knock on the heavy wood, but the door swung open before his knuckles had a chance to meet the surface.

“Warlock Jones, what a surprise,” a red-head, one that after a quick look-over Jughead assumed to be Jason Blossom, quickly said. “We weren’t expecting you.”

“I was supposed to meet up with Betty fifteen minutes ago,” Jughead offered politely, “could you send her my way?”

Jason’s expression fell at his words and it was only then that Jughead allowed himself to take in the Shadowhunter’s appearance properly. He wasn’t dressed in their typical all-black gear attire, instead wearing black slacks with a formal white shirt, top two buttons undone with bow-tie untied and just hanging around his neck loosely. Deep dark circles underneath his eyes were sign of a clear lack of sleep, as well as his messy hair. And was that.. was that blood on his shirt?

“What happened?” Jughead’s voice dropped down immediately, all of the cheerfulness gone in seconds.

Jason just rubbed his face, releasing an exhausted sigh. “Look, now isn’t the best time…” he started.

“What happened?” Jughead repeated his question, voice raising a bit higher, familiar feeling of anger coursing through his veins.

“Nothing happened-“ Jason tried again, but Jughead wasn’t having that.

“Oh, so nothing happened? That’s why you’re still wearing your wedding suit at 10 am, looking as if you hadn’t closed your eyes for a second the entire night? That’s why there’s blood on your collar?” Jughead asked, his hand flicking the spot on Jason’s collar that was stained by the red liquid.

“None of that is of your concern,” Jason growled quickly and Jughead knew he hit a spot.

Jughead had to stifle a laugh - what else did he expect from a Shadowhunter, apart from being too proud to admit they might need somebody’s help, especially somebody’s with a demon blood?

“Fine, don’t tell me. You know what, I don’t really care. Just get me Betty,” he sighed, dismissing Jason with a short wave of his hand.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Jason shook his head, folding his arms across his chest in a defensive manner.

“Why do you lot always insist on making things harder for yourselves?” Jughead hummed angrily. Handful of golden sparks started bursting out of his fingers immediately, the familiarity of magic tingling his palms. “Don’t make me ask again?” 

He wasn’t planning on attacking Jason Blossom nor storming the Institute and getting to Betty with a brute force, but Jason continuing to ignore his wishes was seriously pissing him off. And there was no law against scaring somebody into helping, right?

“I’m sorry, but Betty is currently unavailable. I’ll let her know you stopped by, as soon as possible,” Jason said slowly, clearly unfazed by the threat of Jughead’s magic.

Jughead frowned at his words - something wasn’t right. “Fuck… Is she alright?” 

Jason’s frown deepened immediately, his eyes quickly glazing over Jughead, avoiding his penetrative gaze. 

“I have no idea,” Jason whispered after a few long seconds, his voice clearly clad with worry. 

Jughead’s heartbeat fastened immediately, his breath hitching in his throat and fists pulsing with magic. “Explain. Now.”

“I don’t have to answer to you and I definitely won’t after what you did to her,” Jason sneered.

As much as he tried to keep his calm and not be fazed by his comment, his expression still must have easily given away his emotions. “What did I do to her?” 

“Oh, don’t act all innocent now. Betty had been acting strange and distant ever since you came around the last time. So, I’m sorry, if I don’t want to let you hurt her again.”

“Well, if you seem to know so well what’s going on in Betty’s mind, then riddle me this - what do you think she would tell you if she found out that you tried to micro-manage her life?” Jughead’s eyebrow shot up in question. From the little he knew, Betty didn’t seem like the person who enjoyed being told what to do. No, she seemed like quite the opposite type - positions of power suited her rather well.

When Jason wasn’t answering, Jughead chose to return to his previous question, his patience slowly wearing thin. “Are you going to tell me what happened now, or do I have to figure it out myself? And believe me, once I do, my mood will be a lot worse.”

Jason let out an exhausted sigh and waved to Jughead to follow him inside. And so he did, smirking to himself that he won.

But the smirk didn’t last long. Once they entered the Institute’s Operations Centre, Jughead immediately felt the sorrow mood that hung in the room, making the air heavy and thick with tension. A couple of Shadowhunters were standing around one of the screens, but apart from them, the entire room was deserted, the emptiness almost haunting. Jughead felt like asking Jason about it would just break something really fragile about the situation, so he chose to stay silent and follow the man through the Institute’s halls, until they reached an open-spaced meeting room, one that was already occupied by a handful of Shadowhunters, some familiar, but mostly strangers.

“Jughead! What are you doing here?” Archie was the first to take in his presence and although his words sounded cheery, the exhausted frown on his face told a different story.

“I was supposed to meet with Betty today,” Jughead said carefully, his eyes quickly looking over all of the present Shadowhunters, looking for the familiar blonde ponytail, but coming up empty-handed.

“Oh,” was all Archie said, his expression dropping even more.

“Alright, will somebody finally tell me what’s going on?” Jughead asked, his voice demanding. He was tired of the Shadowhunters’ shenanigans, acting as if everything was confidential information, not willing to share anything, even if it meant he could probably offer a helping hand. Too proud for that, as always.

“Hiram Lodge showed up yesterday, his Gargoyles dropping on us after the wedding ceremony,” Archie started with a small voice.

Hiram Lodge showed up yesterday. Hiram Lodge showed up before he had a chance to talk to Betty, to talk to her about what Sweet Pea discovered. _Fuck._

“Please, tell me Betty is lying in an infirmary and not with him.” The words left his mouth before he could think twice; the fear and anxiety quickly overtaking his entire body. Suddenly, the option of Betty being injured didn’t seem that haunting. 

“He took both her and Veronica,” Archie supplied quickly, his head dropping down in frustration. “And it’s my fault.”

Jughead wanted to object, but Jason was quicker. “It’s not your fault Archie, you made the right call when you sent her to protect Veronica. Hiram would have taken any of us.”

“Actually, I believe he wouldn’t,” Jughead said, inserting himself into the conversation smoothly.

“What?” Archie’s head snapped up immediately, his terrified eyes meeting Jughead’s.

Jughead quickly looked around, his eyes skipping from one Shadowhunter to another. There was way too many of them around, way too many for him to be comfortable, way too many for what he was about to say. 

Noticing his hesitation, Jason’s voice rose up, authoritative and strong. “Alright, everybody, please leave us.” And even though reluctantly, the room slowly emptied out - leaving him alone with Jason, Cheryl, Archie and a blonde Shadowhunter. Jughead quickly eyed the girl, trying to figure out her reason for staying behind and finding it fairly quickly - if the blonde hair, sharp features and piercingly green eyes weren’t enough of a give away, the freshly-looking _wedded-union rune_ on her right arm was - Betty’s sister.

“Now, explain,” Jason demanded, after they were finally alone.

Jughead walked over to the table in the middle of the room, closing his eyes for a second and remembering the book Sweet Pea brought from the Spiral Labyrinth, before snapping his fingers. The book materialised on the table in front of him, a handful of golden sparks flying off it as an aftermath of his magic.

Jughead reached over, making a quick work of finding the page Sweet Pea had showed him earlier, passing the book towards the Shadowhunters right after. Their faces held confused expressions, but all of them bent over the book, quickly reading through the inscriptions.

“What is this?” Cheryl was first to speak up, her eyes bouncing from the book to Jughead and back.

“This is the only record we’ve managed to find of

somebody possessing the Tears of Wisdom and actually using them,” Jughead offered as an explanation, remembering having the same question after Pea brought the book.

“Okay, and…” Jason said, prompting him to continue explaining.

Jughead huffed in exasperation - sometimes, he forgot not everybody’s mind worked in the same way as a warlock’s. 

“And, I have pretty strong reasons to believe that Lodge might have discovered this book and went through the process.”

“For heaven’s sake, can you explain it properly without having us connect the dots?” Cheryl huffed, clearly irritated. Jughead wanted to laugh and bark something back at her, but then he remembered Betty, his smile falling rather quickly, his mind switching into a full work-mode.

“According to the author of this book, for the Tears of the Wisdom to manifest to their full extent and not kill the person injected with them, the process needs to be done in two steps - first injection needs to be performed on a newborn, allowing the baby to accept and grow up with the substance in their system. However, that is not enough for the full powers to manifest, hence, the need of a second injection much later in life. But, some of them might end up leaking through though, even without the additional injection.”

“Like resistance to demon venom,” Archie mumbled underneath his nose, but the comment didn’t go unnoticed by Jughead.

“You noticed,” Jughead’s head dropped to side, watching Archie carefully.

“The venom knocked me out in a matter of seconds, there’s no way Betty could have continued fighting after being wounded,” Archie shrugged.

“Yeah, that’s what made me look into it,” Jughead nodded in Archie’s direction, before turning back to the rest of the group. “So, Betty had been injected with a dose of the Tears just days after being born and we can only assume that the reason why Hiram took her now is to finish the process.”

“Wait, hold on. That doesn’t make any sense - you said that Hermione had taken the Tears from him before he could use them! And why would he use such a precious artefact on somebody as random as Betty?” Cheryl asked.

“Honestly, I think that Hiram hid the fact that he had the Tears in his possession for some time, probably for security reasons. Maybe he never planned on revealing the fact that he had found them - after all, he couldn’t really use them right away. He had to wait for the baby to grow up before he could really profit off them. Somebody probably just happened to stumble upon them, forcing his hand. We will never know for sure, but whatever it was, Alice had given birth just days before Hermione ran away with the Tears, fitting the timeline perfectly.”

“But you’re still missing one important reason - why would Hiram do that? Why, out of all people pick Betty’s mother? And why would Alice go through with that?” Cheryl wondered.

“And why wouldn’t she?” Jughead asked back, his eyebrow shooting up. If Betty’s sister wasn’t in the room, he would have revealed the truth without any sugar-coating or hinting, but he wasn’t a monster, no matter how much would some argue.

“You can’t be serious,” Jason said, huffing out air at disbelief.

“Can’t be serious about what?” Betty’s sister spoke for the first time.

“Polly, why don’t you go and wait outside?” Jason asked, trailing his eyes slowly away from Jughead to his wife.

But in the traditional Cooper fashion, Polly stood her ground, shaking her head in refusal. “What did you mean by that?”

“Let’s just say, that your mother used to be a lot friendlier with Lodge than she would probably ever admit,” Jughead offered with a shrug. The sigh released by Polly afterwards was anything but unexpected, the girl clearly more shocked and taken aback at the revelation than Betty had been. Albeit, Betty’s reaction wasn’t the best per se, but she didn’t seem shocked at the news. More like pissed, but not surprised.

“You’re lying,” Polly gasped silently, taking a step back, away from Jughead.

“Am I? And tell me, dear Ms. Cooper - no, it’s Mrs. Blossom now, right? What reasons would I have to do so?” Jughead smirked, unable to stop himself. 

“There’s demon blood coursing through your veins,” she answered confidently, without missing a single beat.

He shouldn’t have been taken aback by the comment, after all, he was more than used to hearing those words, especially from entitled Shadowhunters’ mouths, especially from the ones carrying the Cooper name. He was so used to it, that it became one of the reasons why he avoided the Nephilim so carefully. So, why did he feel this immerse betrayal at her words? 

“Oh, well, then let me get my things-“ he snapped his fingers quickly, making his book disappear with one swift movement “-and I’ll be out of your hair. Good luck tracking them down without me.” Jughead paused for a moment, making sure his words would sink in. “And _if_ you do, pray to your _Angel_ that Hiram hadn’t managed to inject her with the second dose of the Tears. Because if she survives that, you really don’t want to be on her bad side.”

With those words, Jughead turned around and headed towards the door. He left the room, shutting the door behind his back loudly and slowly walked through the Institute’s cold, dimly-lit corridors to the exit. There was no hurry in his movements - after all, he wasn’t really going to leave. He probably would be able to eventually track down Betty, but he needed the Shadowhunters’ manpower to actually go after her, because he sure as hell wouldn’t be able to recruit many Downworlders. No matter how much many of them would enjoy sinking their teeth or dipping their claws into the flesh of Hiram Lodge, there were very few whose desire was stronger than their fear.

He hadn’t even reached the Operations Centre, before a pair of heavy footsteps caught up to him.

“Jughead, wait!” Archie’s voice called after him. Jughead smirked to himself, slowly stopping and turning around to face the redhead.

“Yes?” he asked innocently.

“I’m really sorry for Polly’s behaviour - she lived in Riverdale almost her entire life, she doesn’t know how to interact with Downworlders. She didn’t really mean what she said.”

“Oh, please, spare me from that. We all know it’s not the truth,” Jughead rolled his eyes. 

“Fuck, I know, she should have known better. But look at things from her perspective - some random guy she had never met before had just told her that her mother was a Gargoyle. It stung like shit, man,” Archie huffed, “but I really appreciate your honesty.”

“You didn’t seem that surprised,” Jughead hummed, thinking back to Archie’s lack of reaction after the revelation. Alice was his mother as well, shouldn’t he be more shocked?

“I had my suspicions,” Archie shrugged.

“Aren’t you just full of surprises?” Jughead laughed and nodded in an approving manner. “How?”

“Oh, unlike Betty’s parents, mine were all about honesty. So once I was old enough, my mother told me a lot about those times, about Hiram Lodge, Gargoyles and the Uprising. And although she hadn’t used any names, it was clear that the people she spoke about were their close friends and well, my family and Coopers had always been very close. But since talking about all of that was strictly forbidden, I never said anything, deciding it would be for the best to leave the past… well, in past. And it’s not like I had any solid proof anyways, just a hunch.”

“So you know also-“

“About my parents being in Gargoyles? Oh yes, big time. It’s not something I’m proud of, but the fact that my father had played a part in Hiram’s plans isn’t any secret around here. But as I mentioned, nobody really talks about it and both of my parents are, well, too dead for anybody to care,” Archie rubbed the back of his neck, clearly struggling to find the right words to explain. “I made my peace with all of that. It was wrong and all of them deserve a punishment - but at the end of the day, they all just followed their hearts. And even though their hearts were wrong, at least they had a clear purpose and goal, which is admirable.”

Jughead looked over the Shadowhunter standing in front of him quickly, noticing things he never did before. The rhythmic tapping of his right foot, the way he nervously rubbed the back of his neck, the small tremble of his lower lip. He didn’t seem like a formidable Shadowhunter anymore, resembling a lost puppy more. And Jughead didn’t have to think twice about what to say.

“You know, you could really use a good pep talk from your father. Remind me about that after we find Betty, alright?” Jughead offered, patting Archie’s shoulder a few times in a friendly manner.

“You’re still going to look for them?” Archie’s eyes shone brightly, returning to his usual spark of happiness in mere seconds.

“I was always going to - with or without you,” Jughead said with a small shrug and started walking back to the meeting room, with Archie close behind. 

“You know, for somebody who despises Nephilim so much, you’re quite eager to help us,” Archie said with a small chuckle.

Jughead rolled his eyes and wanted to argue, but then, Archie was right. “Who said I’m doing it for you?” Jughead asked, hoping that Archie would think he’s doing it for himself, or maybe for the safety and security of the Downworld. Because if there was one thing Jughead didn’t want to do now, it was to be confronted by the truth. The truth with deep green eyes and beautiful smile.

Archie didn’t answer, instead he just let out a small hum and opened the door into the meeting room, motioning Jughead to enter first.

“What’s that warlock doing here?” 

Jughead froze on the spot after the words reached him, a wave - no, a tsunami - of anger crashing against his body before he had a chance to even take a breath in. And the hits just kept coming, syncing up with his heartbeat, fastening up with every passing second. With every new wave of rage, his magic begged to be let out more and more, his hands trembling with power and golden sparks involuntarily flying off his fingertips.

Seeing Alice Cooper in flesh was a lot worse than he could have ever imagined.

Thankfully, while he was being consumed by endless stream of hatred and memories, Archie reached his side and spoke in his place. “This warlock has a name - Jughead - and he’s going to help us find Betty and Veronica.”

“Oh, please, and how is he going to do that? By poisoning my daughter’s thoughts?” Alice sneered, placing her hand on Polly’s shoulder reassuringly and for a moment, Jughead wondered how Betty could have grown up to be so open-minded and kind with such a vile person at her side.

_Deep breaths, Jughead, just breathe and focus._

“If by poisoning you mean telling the truth, then yeah, sure,” Jughead shrugged as nonchalantly as he managed, slowly directing his anger away from his magic and into his cockiness and sarcasm instead. _Nothing good would come from attacking Alice Cooper right now, nothing good_ , he repeated to himself in his mind.

“Leave this Institute, now,” Alice angry-whispered, but Jughead just laughed.

“I don’t think that’s your call to make,” Jughead said, his eyes quickly flipping towards Jason. “You’re the Head of the Institute already, right?”

“How do you know-” Jason started, but the realisation dawned upon him before he could finish the sentence. “He stays,” he said firmly, directing the words towards Alice more than anybody else.

“Well, as much as I enjoyed seeing you again Alice, it would be very appreciated if you could leave now,” Jughead said, giving Alice a wide tight-lipped grin, one that was anything but honest or kind.

“And she stays too. Now stop bickering and help us, or _Angel_ help me before I murder somebody today,” Jason added firmly. Jughead recognised the tone too well - the authoritative no-nonsense tone he himself used when things got too much, when he needed everybody to do as he said, when he was no longer in the mood for any bullshit.

“Fine, whatever. But I can’t guarantee my magic will be on its best behaviour with her around,” Jughead sighed towards Jason.

“And I really don’t care, as long as you help us find them.”

“Very well then, brief me - what have you already tried?” 

Cheryl took the lead this time, quickly starting up on explaining their failed attempts. “We’ve managed to capture one of the Gargoyles yesterday, but nobody had been able to make him talk. We’ve tried tracking both of them, but no success - Hiram must be blocking the signal as well as being over water. We have people watching live security feeds and satellite imaging, trying to locate them. Nothing yet, so feel free to take your pick.”

“Well, I’m in no mood to waste my time by staring at security footages nor with trying to make some random Nephilim talk; it’s not like I would be of any help with either of them. Well, maybe I could do something with the second one, but I believe I’ll be the most useful with tracking.”

“Warlock tracking might be more powerful than ours, but even you won’t be able to reach them if they’re above water,” Jason shook his head. “And of course, our best tracker is currently kidnapped.”

Jughead’s lips twitched up at that - tracking spells and runes, especially the more complicated ones, required a great amount of focus and determination, both qualities with which Betty was overflowing with - no surprise that she was their best tracker.

“We still haven’t tried parabatai tracking,” Cheryl said. Well, more mumbled, but the words didn’t go unnoticed by anybody in the room.

“And we aren’t going to. It would only put Betty in danger,” Polly shook her head firmly, dismissing Cheryl’s idea.

Jughead had heard about parabatai tracking before, and none of the things were good. Archie could potentially find Betty through their bond, but the action would cause a great deal of pain to both parties as well as weakening the bond to the point of almost breaking.

“As much as I hate to admit it, I agree with the blondie,” Jughead said, motioning his hand towards Polly. “Parabatai tracking is definitely off the table. Now get me something that’s important to them, so I can try.”

A few seconds later, he was holding two things that the Shadowhunters deemed to be the most valued possessions in the girls’ lives and he couldn’t stop himself from laughing. A lipstick and a thigh holster full of knives.

“Is this the best you could do?” he asked, laughter still fresh in his voice.

“It’s Veronica’s favourite lipstick, she wears it every day. And that thing is strapped on Betty’s sometimes even when she sleeps,” Archie offered as explanation for their choices.

“Yeah, they are excellent choices for general tracking, but no surprise you weren’t able to get even an approximate location. Sentimental value and uniqueness increase the tracking power rapidly and I’m sorry to say, but a mass-produced lipstick or a standard-issued thigh holster have very little of that,” Jughead said. He pushed the things along the table for dramatic effect, not even attempting a tracking spell, knowing it would yield no more results than any of their attempts. “We’re going to need something that was close to their hearts, something rare, I don’t know, a favourite toy from childhood, or a photo of their first crush they never quite moved on from, or a gift from their loved one…” Jughead rambled, his voice trailing off with the last few words.

“You’re silly to believe any of them have something like that,” Alice’s cold voice cut through the silence that filled the room and for probably the first (and last) time in his life, Jughead was glad that it was her who spoke up.

“Well, you’re not going to believe but I may know just the thing,” Jughead smirked, his mind already running hundreds of miles per hour. He slowly pulled off his crown-etched ring, twirling with the heavy metal between his fingers for a few seconds, before showing it to Alice. “I believe you recognise this.”

She blinked a few times before fully taking in the ring in front of her. Jughead didn’t have to look at her expression to see the moment she realised what he showed her, the way her breathing hitched speaking volumes.

“Is that-“ she started, but was unable to form the rest of the question.

“The ring you pulled off my dead sister’s finger?” Jughead finished for her, ignoring the shocked gasps of everybody in the room. “No, it’s not. This one is mine.”

“Wait, is that the ring you asked us for?” Cheryl asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

“That’s the one Alice took as a souvenir, yes,” Jughead smirked, realising the cutting power of his words all too well. “I expected their reunion to make me feel a lot better, but it was still too raw, too painful. You see, I forged the pair myself, keeping one and gifting the other to the person I cared most about, so that she would know that wherever in the world we might be, we would still be together, we would still be a family.”

“Sentimental and unique,” Jason hummed. 

“That’s right. My most prized possession,” Jughead agreed, continuing to twirl with the ring.

“Well, as beautiful as that story was, it still is of no use to us,” Alice rolled her eyes.

“Oh, but it is. Because I can easily locate the second ring anywhere in the world. And the luck seems to be on our side today, because it just so happens to be hanging around your daughter’s neck.”

And the horrified expression on Alice’s face was so worth it.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank y'all for reading and commenting and reblogging and leaving kudos and likes and anything else you do to support me and this story 💕 you are all stars and i appreciate you so much. and special thanks to maggie, for betaing as always.
> 
> can't wait to hear your thoughts in the comments once again!
> 
> see you with a new chapter on sunday!


	12. chapter xii

Betty didn’t remember passing out - but then, she didn’t remember much happening after stepping through the portal, pain pulsating in her leg from the knife that was still stuck in her thigh and drowsiness heavy on her lids. Veronica’s body was warm and comforting against her side, offering her stability in a physical as well as in a mental sense.

That being said, she was a bit surprised once she realised the warmth was long gone and apart from the numbing pain, a cold tingling sensation ran along her leg and a low voice was whispering near her ear. “This is going to sting.”

Betty’s eyes shot open in the same moment as the warlock kneeling by her pulled the knife out of her thigh. Biting her lip to stop herself from screaming, she felt a rush of blood fill her mouth and a sharp pang of pain running through her body, originating in the bloody wound. But slowly, the tingling feeling of the warlock’s magic took over, erasing the pain and replacing it with numbness and calmness. 

“Thanks,” Betty mumbled silently, her voice sounding strained and hoarse. She must have been out longer than she thought, but a quick look over the dark room she was in didn’t reveal anything that would tell her the time.

“Bosses orders,” the warlock shrugged as she finished taking care of the wound and Betty’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“So, first his orders were to kill and now to heal?” Betty asked.

“He never wanted you to get hurt,” she shook her head simply. The warlock got up, turning her back at Betty and headed towards the exit.

“Evelyn,” Betty called after her, hoping that the pleading way she said the warlock’s name would be enough to stop her from leaving, “you don’t have to help him. You are strong; stronger than he is. You can just leave.”

Evelyn let out a small laugh, one that was anything but happy, resembling something of a desperate cry. “You’re wrong, young Shadowhunter. In the end, one way or another, all of us will end up helping him.”

She gave Betty one last small smile, before exiting the room and leaving Betty alone. 

Betty allowed herself a few seconds to compose herself and to slow her racing mind down at least a bit. Deep breathing almost did a trick, but it was her nails piercing the skin of her palms that finally lifted the hazy fog of anxiety and cleared her thoughts.

 _So, a plan_. Get out of this room, find Veronica and get away from wherever the hell they were. Sounds simple enough.

Betty got up off the floor, only then the circumstances of their taking coming rushing back to her. The long golden gown she wore to the wedding was torn along the length of her leg, the bottoms of it heavy with dirt and wetness. Strappy heels were still on her feet and for once she was thankful for giving into Cheryl’s pleas and letting the girl teach her how to not only walk perfectly in such high heels, but also how to run and fight in them. Cheryl wouldn’t be caught dead in the mass-produced combat boots Betty preferred, not accepting shoes without a heel as a legit type of footwear.

As Betty walked to the door, she looked around the room, hoping to find something that she could use like a weapon. Sadly, the room was empty, she, a light bulb and the door the only things inside apart from four cold walls. So, no weapon then, alright.

She tried the door, with a little hope that it would budge. But surprisingly, the wood creaked as she pressed on it, slowly opening up. Betty wanted to smile to herself - this was going to be easier than she expected. _It was going way too easy_. It shouldn’t be this easy - the door shouldn’t have been left unlocked and most definitely not unguarded.

So instead of smiling, she just gulped, closing the door as silently as possible and heading down the corridor. Time for step two - find Veronica.

From the look of the hallway she walked through and the gentle swinging of the floor, she guessed they were on some boat. That certainly complicated things, as it would render tracking practically impossible, meaning she couldn’t rely on a backup arriving any time soon. That certainly wasn’t the most optimal state, but she would have to do with what was available.

She was almost finished with checking this floor and although most of the doors were locked, she seemed to be the only person on it. And even though she was more than happy that she hadn’t run into any of the Gargoyles just yet, she couldn’t get rid of the anxious feeling that settled in her stomach. _Why would they leave her here completely alone, unguarded?_

She found a staircase at the end of the corridor, so she carefully moved onto the next floor. But with this floor, she wasn’t so lucky anymore.

A pair of guards were patrolling the corridor, their walk slow and conversation huffed. Betty pushed her body against the wall of the staircase, slowing down her breathing while she waited in the darkness behind the corner for a right moment.

And the moment came, not too many seconds later. The pair of guards had walked almost all the way to the staircase and turned to head back without even checking if it was empty first. Once their backs were turned towards Betty, she stepped out of the shadows and plunged towards them.

A kick into the back of the knee brought one of them down on the ground and made the second one reach for his blade. He swung at Betty, but she ducked away quickly, using the energy she gained by the movement to throw herself at him, in an attempt to throw him out of balance. But he was bigger and stronger than she was, rendering her attempt useless. By that time, the first man was back on his feet, with a seraph blade glowing in his hand.

Maybe if she could get her hands on one of those blades, or a stele at least, this fight would get a lot fairer. But that was easier said than done, so instead she just continued with moving away from the trajectories of their blades, looking for an opening to attack.

That came after a few moments - one of the Gargoyles left his entire left side unprotected as his blade hit the wall above Betty’s head, opening the place up for an attack. Her fingers curled into a fist and quickly connected with his jaw, followed by a kick into his side, one that made her really appreciate the heels she was wearing. The Gargoyle groaned in pain and wavered, giving Betty yet another opportunity. 

She curled against his body with her back, making use of the pointy heel once again by stomping on his foot and lifting her elbow quickly, connecting the sharp end-bone with his chin. The move sent him stumbling a few steps back, but before he could get out of her reach, Betty grasped his arm, the one that held the seraph blade, and twisted it in her hands. She could hear the man falling on his knees behind her back in an attempt to get out of her grip. He tried using his second arm to get rid of her, but Betty’s leg quickly shot back and up, the back of her heel landing perfectly between his legs.

He mumbled a silent curse after that and finally released his hold on the seraph blade - exactly what Betty had been waiting for. She caught the handle mid-air, spinning around and sinking it into his shoulder as it activated in her palm with a soft glow.

The man’s back hit the floor immediately after she pulled the blade out, probably not quite dead yet, but close enough for Betty to stop caring. She spun back to face the second Shadowhunter, just in time to block his blade with hers. 

This one was bigger and stronger, but his attacks were too slow to cause Betty any problem. She had no trouble with predicting his next moves, always having enough time to prepare herself both mentally and physically for them. She waited, blocking his every attempt, for an opening for her own counterattack, knowing the opportunity would come sooner rather than later.

And it did; a series of quick attacks at her right side left his legs open for an attack, so Betty charged at them in-between his swings. Her blade was met with the flesh of his muscles quickly and his cry of pain was just a proof of her success.

After that, he got sloppy, making it easy for Betty to cause few more wounds before he fell down after a particularly deep cut on his stomach.

But she didn’t allow herself to stop after that, quickly picking up his seraph blade as well and searching his body for a stele, luckily, finding one strapped to his belt. Not losing any more time, she started walking down the corridor, making quick work of activating her runes as she checked all of the doors for any sign of Veronica.

Apart from the pair of guards, the second floor turned out to be as hauntingly empty as was the first one, so Betty cautiously made her way to the third floor. There was no way she was alone on that ship, right…?

Turns out, she wasn’t. As soon as she reached the third floor, voices and sounds of commotion reached her, making her duck back into the darkness provided by the staircase. She could hear laughter and loud chatter of too many people to count. Well, this was it - she couldn’t go further this way, not without being seen. Her only option was to go back down, to check all of the rooms again, in hope that Veronica was in one with locked doors. She had a stele now, unlocking them would be no problem -

“You can’t really believe that’s gonna work, daddy,” Veronica’s sharp voice overpowered all of the chatter and made Betty’s blood freeze over. So much for finding her somewhere downstairs and getting out of here unnoticed.

“I do - and soon, so will you,” Hiram answered, his words short and sharp. “But that’s not up to us to decide - Elizabeth, will you join us?”

Betty was pretty sure her heart skipped a beat as she reluctantly stepped out of the shadows of the staircase, her right hand firmly grasping the seraph blade’s handle. The room was full of Shadowhunters, each one of them bearing the tell-tale Gargoyle rune on their necks. There could have been around fifty of them and even though the number wasn’t that huge, it was still way too much. She recognised handful of them from the Institute’s files. Evelyn Evernever, the warlock, standing a few feet behind Hiram, hovering in the shadows, but her red hair too bright to allow her to completely blend in. Reginald Mantle standing at the front of the room, his body leaning too close to Veronica’s, in what definitely wasn’t a friendly manner. And of course, a few feet further, stood Hiram Lodge himself.

“Don’t worry Elizabeth, you won’t be needing that,” Hiram said, waving his hand as a command; handful of arms appeared around her, grabbing onto her and taking the blade out of her, leaving her seemingly weapon-less (well, apart from the second seraph blade she had carefully tied against her ankle with the long shoe strap and a stele tucked safely in her bra, though the latter wouldn’t be of much use in a fight anyways). “But I’m impressed - how did you get that?” Hiram’s head tilted to the side, his eyes carefully running over Betty.

“Don’t worry, they didn’t just let me have it; they put up a bit of a fight. Or tried to,” Betty shrugged innocently. 

“You know, they probably would have if you asked nicely,” Hiram admitted and Betty froze at his words. 

_He never wanted you to get hurt._ She hadn’t given much thought to Evelyn’s words, but they crashed back to her mind now. _Why? What was his plan?_ He clearly needed her for something, but what for? 

As much as she would love to know, this wasn’t the right time to really ponder about it. Her eyes quickly sprung back to Veronica, still dressed in her long purple dress accompanied by her pearl necklace and even higher heels than Betty’s, standing tall and proud in front of Hiram and his Gargoyles. There was no sign of any cuffs, metal or magic ones, which made things a lot easier for them. Well, as easy as it would be to fight their way out of a room full of Gargoyles.

“So, Elizabeth, let me explain our situation here,” Hiram said slowly, his voice strong enough to easily fill out the silence that fell upon the room once Betty entered it.

“Please, don’t. I really don’t care,” Betty shook her head. A small pang of happiness flustered in her heart at Hiram’s shocked face. 

This was something she saw Cheryl do too many times to count when dealing with egotistical, too-full-of-themselves maniacs - just pretend not to care, keep saying snarky comments that will throw them off their rhythm. Not used to people disobeying, they’ll have to rethink their plans and our bound to make a mistake.

“Well, well, well, who taught you that? Was it your mother? Or maybe that Andrews boy. All of you have disobedience running through your blood,” Hiram shook his head, chuckling.

“Didn’t they learn it from you?” Betty asked back, her head cocking to the side. A couple of muffled laughs reached her from a side and she couldn’t help but smile to herself.

But that smile didn’t last long as Hiram quickly silenced the entire room with a hand gesture, his eyes never leaving Betty’s.

“As much as I’m enjoying how confident you are, there’s a business I’d much rather attend to. The business of the Tears of the Wisdom.”

Betty’s eyebrow shot up in question - did he seriously think they had found them? By the amount of research she had done on them, she could be considered an expert; but even that wasn’t enough to locate them. No matter how many books and texts would pass underneath her hands, none of them pushed her closer towards the actual artefacts.

“Even if we did have them, there’s no way we would give them to you,” Betty barked out quickly.

Hiram laughed, which wasn’t a reaction she had anticipated and waved his hand, surely sending another command to his Gargoyles and for a second, Betty wondered how did they always know what to do just from that small of a gesture. But before she could delve deeper into examination of different wrist flicking techniques, a group of Gargoyles emerged, dragging along a tied up person.

They stopped once they were in Hiram’s reach, shoving the prisoner onto the floor and letting Hiram take the fabric off his head.

A small gasp escaped Betty’s mouth, accompanied by Veronica’s cry. “Smithers!”

“Oh, dear miss Veronica, what have you gotten yourself into?” the warlock whispered, his voice broken and hoarse. The pain he’s been surely going through was clear on his face, from the dark circles underneath his eyes, through the numerous bloodied cuts and wounds, all the way to colorful splatter of bruises that covered his skin.

“Where’s Veronica’s mother?” Betty asked suddenly, remembering what had gotten them into this mess in the first place. 

“Don’t worry, she’s fine. I’d never hurt her,” Hiram smirked and although his smile was arrogant, there was a certain hint of honesty and adoration in his voice and Betty felt herself believing his words. “But back to what matters and that’s the Tears.”

“Yeah, we don’t have them,” Betty said, folding her arms against her chest in a defensive motion.

“And see, that’s where you’re wrong,” Hiram shook his head. “I know Hermione better than anyone, so I knew she would never leave the artefact unprotected. She would entrust it into somebody’s care, somebody she trusted to keep them safe. It took me a while to figure out who that person was, once I didn’t find them on her or her precious little warlock helper,” Hiram sneered in Smithers’ direction.

 _Veronica,_ Betty thought immediately, _Veronica has to have them._ If what he was saying was true, than everything they had been looking for was right underneath their noses the entire time. She needed to get to her before Hiram or his Gargoyles could, something that was easier wished than done. So she started taking small steps towards the girl, hoping that she would get there sooner rather than later.

“Are you implying I have them?” Veronica asked, her voice high-pitched, followed by a quick laugh. “Please, feel free to search me.”

“How nice to see that Hermione raised you to have good manners,” Hiram said as he walked over to Veronica and slowly looked over her. “I just realised, I totally forgot that congratulations are in place! How happy is your mother to have her daughter running the New York Institute?” Although Hiram’s eyes hadn’t left Veronica, the question was clearly directed at Betty.

A sharp pang of anger ran through her body, her stomach clenching at the memory of her mother being a Gargoyle, working for Hiram, doing his bidding and killing. Her mind started spinning quickly and she had to ground herself with the only way available to her right now - digging her nails deep into her palms.

“She’s ecstatic,” Betty mumbled, hoping that her anger didn’t show.

“Oh, she must be. She had always dreamed of running one herself. But let me be honest with you - neither her or your sister would be the Cooper I’d pick for the position.”

Betty’s heart involuntarily skipped a beat - why was he saying that? Why was he implying that the Institute should have been hers? Why was he a second person to do so in recent days?

“But enough of small talk,” Hiram said. His examination of Veronica finally stopped and he turned his back on his daughter with a satisfied smirk.

“It took me a while to break this warlock, but once I did, he told me all about the spell he used to hide the Tears for Hermione. He surely had to dig deep to find that spell, because, let’s be honest; making something as twisted as demonic magic work on angelic relic can’t be that easy. Do you want to know what the spell was?” Hiram asked, his voice tentative.

“Sure, enlighten me,” Betty answered, prompting him to continue as she took another step towards Veronica. Only few more.

“Well, tell them,” Hiram all but barked out, his attention suddenly on Smithers.

He coughed heavily before answering and even though Betty couldn’t see properly, she was pretty sure blood left his mouth. “I froze them in time, turning them to stone.”

“And?” Hiram’s angry voice resonated throughout the room in thick contrast to the warlock’s broken whispers.

“And I made sure I was the only one who could undo it,” Smithers finished.

“See and that was your mistake. That’s why you had to watch all of your friends die.” Hiram’s cold delivery of the words stabbed at Betty’s heart even more than the meaning behind them. “Now, shall we fix that, or do you want to watch the rest of them go as well?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, instead took a step towards Veronica, who quickly stepped back, out of his reach. But that brought her to no better situation, as her back hit Reginald’s body, his hands coming up to her shoulders and squeezing her.

“ _Mija_ , please,” Hiram said, his hand reaching up.

And once again, Veronica was step ahead. Her own hand shot up, her fingers curling around the pearls of her necklace. “You want this?” she asked teasingly and before Hiram could do anything, she pulled.

The string tore, the pearls raining down, hitting the floor and scattering all around the room. The look in her eyes could kill, but there was a satisfied smirk on her lips at the small victory.

“Clever,” Hiram hummed, “pick them up and bring them to me.” His voice sounded throughout the room, loud and sharp, commanding the Gargoyles and leaving no space for hesitation or disobedience.

The Shadowhunters started moving around, collecting the spilled white pearls from the floor. Betty took advantage of the commotion, quickly bringing her leg up and retrieving the second seraph blade from her provisional ankle holder. She adjusted her posture, folding her arms behind her back and hiding the handle between them and the soft material of her dress. Then, she took another step towards Veronica.

“Bring the warlock forward,” Hiram said, couple of Gargoyles immediately following his order, dragging Smithers towards him. 

Not wasting any time, Hiram shoved a bowl (where did he get that from?) and the handful of pearls into Smithers’ hands. “Begin.”

The warlock sighed heavily, his gaze shooting up to Veronica quickly. “I’m so sorry miss Veronica. Please, tell your mot-“

“I said, begin!” Hiram’s voice cut Smithers’ off, making his gaze fall back down to the artefact in front of him. He silently started chanting something underneath his breath, but with each passing second, his words gained on power and volume. His fingers started glowing stark white, the light they were emitting intensifying quickly, until Betty had to squish her eyes to protect them from its power.

Another step forward.

She couldn’t make out the exact words Smithers was saying, but it all ended with a loud shout, one that didn’t seem to be only a part of the spell, but coming from a deeper, much darker place. Painful place.

“See, it didn’t even hurt,” Hiram said, his satisfied voice filling up the now silent room. A couple of Gargoyles walked over to him, picking up the bowl from the floor and making quick work of extracting the white liquid with soft glow from the bowl into an injection.

_The Tears of the Wisdom._

Betty’s eyes met Veronica’s quickly, seeing the terrified look on her face as the injection was making its way to Hiram’s hands. They had to do something and do it fast.

There were only a few feet of distance between her and Hiram, so Betty crossed them quickly, pulling out the seraph blade from behind her back on her way. Thankfully, Hiram didn’t see her coming, at least not until she stood behind him and the blade was pushed against the skin of his throat.

“Oh, of course. There were two guys patrolling on the second floor,” he chuckled slowly, “my mistake for not searching you properly.”

“You know, I might forgive you if you let us go,” Betty offered, but Hiram laughed again.

“I sadly can’t do that. You’re too important to me, Elizabeth. But how about a deal?”

 _What does he mean by that?_ “What deal?” 

“Do you know what happens when somebody is injected with the Tears without the proper preparation?” Hiram asked. 

Betty’s eyebrows furrowed. “They die,” she said quickly, the words slipping from her mouth involuntarily. She came across that in one of the texts she had read; it mentioned that a Shadowhunter injected himself with the serum, but instead of gaining abilities, he died in excruciating pain. The text later stated that the serum probably wasn’t the actual thing, just some sort of poison developed by a warlock to mess with them.

“Yes, they do and it’s rather painful,” Hiram hummed, “and you wouldn’t want that to happen to Veronica, would you?” 

Before Betty could answer, the Gargoyle that currently held the injection with the Tears stepped towards Veronica, with clear purpose.

“You wouldn’t do that to your own daughter,” Betty pleaded quickly, but Hiram just laughed, his throat pushing against her blade with the action.

“Is she though? She might have my blood, but she’s nothing but a stranger to me. I couldn’t care less - but you could.”

Betty felt her heartbeat fastening, pushing against her ribs painfully. As much as she wanted to stop Hiram, she couldn’t sacrifice Veronica - she just couldn’t.

“Fine. Let’s make a deal,” Betty seeped through her teeth. “You let all of them go. Veronica, Hermione. Smithers and his friends you surely hold captive as leverage. Or you know what, everybody you’re holding against their will. Evelyn.” Betty’s eyes flipped to the warlock quickly, hoping that it was the right call.

“As much as I admire your courage to make such demands, the blade on my throat isn’t enough of a leverage,” Hiram said calmly.

“I know,” Betty admitted. Even with the advantage provided by her position, she wouldn’t be able to take him down. But thankfully, she had a plan.

Betty took a long step back, bringing the blade away from Hiram’s throat. But instead of dropping it to her side, she brought it up, to her own neck. Veronica gasped loudly.

“You need me alive, which seems like plenty of leverage,” Betty said and a smirk sprawled at her lips as she took in Hiram’s shook face. “So, do we have a deal?”

“Mantle, make sure Elizabeth’s conditions are met,” Hiram said slowly, his eyes not leaving Betty for a second.

“But-“ Reginald started.

“That’s an order,” Hiram cut him off, his voice leaving no room for argument. Reginald just nodded, his grasp on Veronica tightening as he dragged her away, motioning for couple more Shadowhunters to join him.

“Betty, you don’t have to do this,“ Veronica cried out.

“You know I do,” Betty said, sending a half-smile in the girl’s direction, one that probably hadn’t reached her. “You’re my responsibility,” she added with a whisper, remembering Clifford words. _You found her, you brought her in, you make sure she gets the proper training and education. She’s your responsibility._

Once the door closed behind the last Gargoyle that was dragging Smithers out, Betty’s eyes drifted back to Hiram.

“How do I know you let them go?” she asked. She knew she was pushing it, but with her fingers still firmly around the blade’s handle, she felt small spurges of confidence running through her body. She had to know for sure that this - sacrificing herself - wasn’t for nothing.

“Drop the blade and you’ll get your proof,” Hiram said, his head tilting to the side. 

Reluctantly, Betty dropped her arm, the blade still in her hand, but now just casually hanging by her side.

“The proof?” she asked immediately, not giving him enough time to get somebody to snatch up her blade. 

Hiram nodded, calling forward one of his Gargoyles with a simple handwave. The guy stepped forward, carrying a tablet in his hands. He passed it to Hiram, who turned it towards Betty after few seconds.

“This is live footage from one of my security cameras,” he explained and Betty nodded, waiting. Nothing happened for a few moments.

But then, a greenish portal opened up at the dock and people started exiting it. Hermione, Veronica, Smithers, handful of others whose states looked as disheveled as the warlock’s. The last person to step out was Evelyn and as the portal collapsed behind them, the screen turned black.

The reflection staring back at her from the black screen didn’t even resemble her - her hair all messy (she would kill for a hair tie and a ponytail right now), her makeup smudged underneath her eyes, only deepening the dark circles that seemed to have taken up a permanent residence there. Worry etched into every cell of her face. Not even for herself, but for the ones close to her, for the ones she loved. _For the ones she could have loved._ The thought of causing people pain and sorrow, the thought of them suffering because of her sacrifice almost broke her heart.

The choice to protect Veronica, protect Hermione, protect Smithers and the rest of the Downworlders came naturally to her; after all, it was her duty as a Shadowhunter. To make sure the law is upheld and the ones that require it are provided with protection. It was what her teachers taught her, it was what her mother taught her; _you never come first._

“Do your worst,” Betty whispered, her lids dropping, but the exhausted image not leaving her mind.

_Do your worst, because what could be worse than this?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank y'all for reading and commenting, i love you so much 💕 special thanks to maggie for being an amazing beta as always.
> 
> i know i dragged it out a little bit, but i promise there's going to be a reunion in the next chapter! 💕 so stay tuned for thursday's update!


	13. chapter xiii

By the time Jughead was finished with the tracking spell and Jason rallied up all of the Shadowhunters the Institute could spare (it was much less than Jughead had anticipated, but he didn’t say anything, as almost all of his own attempts to ask for help from Downworlders had failed spectacularly), the sun had already set over New York. 

They took the subway to the location, as Jughead didn’t want to waste too much of his magic for portaling the dozens of people to the other side of the city. If the location he got was correct (and he was pretty sure of that), he’d definitely need all of his strength. After all, Hiram Lodge would not be unprepared or unprotected. Especially not if he was this close to achieving his goal.

The docks where they tracked the signal from Jughead’s ring were dark and empty and if anybody were to ask Jughead for his opinion, he would say that they were too silent. But nobody did, so he said nothing, just continued carefully walking behind Archie’s back.

“Is that the ship?” Jason asked as they approached the pier.

Jughead lifted his head to look over the ship and nodded in an answer. Even though the tracking spell didn’t allow him to see it properly, he saw the old rotten wood and rusty metal, the weak yellow light bulbs and the rather small deck, and this one fit the description perfectly.

“Alright, there seems to be only one entrance, so we’ll go through-” Jason started, but his words died mid-sentence, his hand shooting up in a silencing motion.

It was easy to see what captured the Shadowhunter’s attention - a green swirling portal opening up a bit further down into the docks, but still relatively close to the ship. Jughead’s magic reacted immediately, sparks jumping from his fingers, ready to attack and protect. He could hear blades being drawn around him, all of the Shadowhunters preparing for the worst.

But that didn’t come, because once the first person stepped out from the portal, Archie’s blade dropped down immediately.

“Veronica,” he whispered quickly, releasing a relieved sign. Slowly and a bit reluctantly, the rest of the Shadowhunters also lowered their weapons, but still standing back and waiting as more and more people exited the portal.

Jughead wished for his heart to flutter the same way as Archie’s must have when he saw the people walking out; but with every passing person, the anxiety just worsened. Even from afar, he recognised Hermione, Smithers and handful of other Downworlders he knew from passing, most of them through Smithers. But once the portal closed behind them, there was no wave of relief washing over him. Instead, a terrifying feeling settled in his stomach.

“Veronica!” Cheryl was the first to move from her position, running towards the raven-haired girl. Veronica’s head spun in the direction of noise and a cry left her mouth; Jughead wasn’t sure if it was of a relief or fear. And by the look on Veronica’s face once he got closer to the girl, his bet would be on both.

“What- How did you find us?” she stumbled and let Cheryl crush her in a hug, one that was quickly joined by Archie.

“Jughead tracked Betty…” Archie said, his voice faltering and falling with the realisation, “where is Betty?”

Veronica just shook her head, but her eyes filled up with tears. “My father- He threatened to hurt me, to hurt Smithers, to hurt everybody,” she slowly choked up, her voice betraying her. “She made him let all of us go in exchange for herself.”

The whole world spun with Jughead. If the situation had been any different, he would be pleasantly surprised at a Shadowhunter sacrificing like this, but this, this was just bad. And not only because he knew what Hiram’s plan was and it was nothing good;  _ no _ . This was Betty, Betty with her soft smile and warm eyes, with a voice made of honey, a mind made of wisdom and a heart made of gold. 

_ Fuck. _

“Jughead, calm down.” A voice reached his ears, but he couldn’t identify its origin as it was barely distinguishable from the white noise slowly filling his ears. He couldn’t focus on it or on anything for that matter. The world around him became a splur of colours and shapes, of meaningless sounds and cold touches.

“Hey, snap out of it!” Another voice said, this one firm and angry enough to pierce through the fog and reach his mind. He shook his head a little, his eyes meeting Sweet Pea’s immediately. “Good. I didn’t come here to babysit you, though. Get a hold of yourself.”

Jughead rolled his eyes at the other warlock, but gave him a small grateful smile. “Fine. Let’s go in.” He turned on his heel, heading towards the ship with a determination in his step, only to be stopped by a strong hand grabbing his arm.

He looked sideways, his angry eyes meeting a pair of blue calmness. “Barging in like that won’t do her any good.”

Jughead sighed heavily and even though every single cell of his body wanted to snap at the Shadowhunter and walk into the ship, deep down, he knew that he was right. “Fine, Mr. Blossom, what is your plan then?” he snickered, cocking his head to the side and roughly pulling his arm out of his grasp.

“How many people does he have inside? What should we expect?” Jason turned towards Veronica, Hermione and the Downworlders. 

Veronica started quickly talking about what she saw while inside and Jughead tuned her out, finally taking a good look at the group standing in front of them. Veronica’s dishevelled state in a long purple gown and high heels, Hermione with messy hair, dirty clothes and a look on her face as if she hadn’t slept in days, Smithers, his dear warlock friend, looking as if he was on the brink of death. His heart clenched at the sight, as well as when he looked at the rest of the Downworlders, mostly vampires and few werewolves, all of their states very similar to the warlock’s. But one person stood up and it took Jughead only one look to realise why.

“You- you helped him,” he breathed out suddenly, his eyes piercing Evelyn Evernever. He hadn’t seen her in almost two decades, believing she had been killed by Hiram during one of his attacks as did most of the Shadow World. But apparently, they had been wrong, as she stood in front of him, alive and well.

His anger spiked immediately, magic flying out his hands without any prompts or warnings, quickly finding its way to Evelyn’s throat and curling around it tightly. A breathless scream left her mouth, but Jughead couldn’t bring himself to care.

If any of the Shadowhunters around him wanted to stop him, none were brave enough. They could all probably sense his rage and uneasiness and would do anything to keep him from directing it at them.

“Betty-” she started slowly, but just ended up choking on her words as the Jughead’s grip on her throat tightened.

“Don’t say her name,” he pushed through his teeth, each word full of anger.

“Jughead, if you don’t stop right now, I’m benching you,” Jason’s sharp voice cut through the air. 

It made Jughead laugh; the thought of Jason thinking he could stop him, keep him from this mission. 

“For god’s sake, this isn’t helping Betty!” Cheryl screamed at him and it was all it took for his magic’s hold on Evelyn to disintegrate, the warlock’s body hitting the ground with heavy breaths. As much as he hated to admit it, Cheryl was right. 

Jughead grunted, quickly opening up a portal. 

“I’ll deal with you later,” he snickered before sending a wave of magic towards Evelyn, pushing her into the whirlwind of golden sparks and shutting it behind her.

“Thank you,” Jason quickly whispered in Cheryl’s direction and then turned to Jughead. “I don’t care how useful you can be - if you can’t control yourself, you’re not coming to get Betty. Plain and simple as that.”

“About that - you don’t need to bother with it anymore,” Hermione said, making all of their heads snap in her direction.

“What do you mean?” Cheryl asked.

“She is a Cooper; it’s only a matter of time until she joins his ranks willingly. Hiram knew what he was doing when he picked Alice for the experiment,” Hermione shrugged. “We should instead focus on getting the Tears from him to even out our chances.”

If Jughead was angry before, it was nothing compared to what he felt now.  _ Betty is nothing like her mother _ , he wanted to scream, but he was too slow.

“Betty would never,” Archie shook his head, “she would never join Hiram.”

“You don’t know how will the Tears mess with her head.”

“I don’t, but I believe in her,” Archie said firmly. He pressed his hand against his hip, right on top of where his parabatai rune lied, as if in an attempt to persuade himself about the truth of his own words.

“I agree with Archie, Betty is strong and good and we’ve come here for her as well. We’re not leaving without her,” Cheryl said and Archie nodded thankfully, “and did you say he has the Tears?”

“I had Smithers put them under a spell to make them look like pearls,” Hermione explained, “and I put them on a necklace, which I gave to Veronica. One that she doesn’t have anymore.” Hermione’s hand pointed to Veronica’s neck, where the pearl necklace used to lay.

“Hiding it in plain sight, clever,” Jughead nodded approvingly, “but if he has Betty and the Tears, there’s no point in us going after the artefact. Even if what you’re saying was true, there’s no use for them unless we’ve got somebody who’s been prepared for them.”

“Who says we don’t?” Hermione asked.

“What?” Jughead asked at the same time as at least two other people. 

“I have known Hiram my entire life, I know how he works and how he thinks. And even though I didn’t know who he had used the Tears on, I knew he had surely done it. So, I made sure to have a contingency plan ready, if the worst scenario had happened,” Hermione explained.

“You injected your own baby,” Jason suddenly said.

Hermione nodded. “I did.”

No words came to Jughead’s mind at the confession - his mind completely blanking out. Thankfully, nobody asked him to speak, as there was plenty of confused chatter going around the group.

“I’m not saying that Betty is going to fall under Hiram’s spell, but having somebody injected with the Tears of Wisdom on our side would certainly be an advantage for taking Hiram down,” Jason said slowly and few Shadowhunters nodded in agreement.

_ No, it’s not a good idea,  _ Jughead thought. They had no way of knowing the consequences the action would have, or if Veronica would even survive the process. It would be way too risky to attempt. Good thing that they didn’t have the Tears -

“Now it’s probably a good time to mention that I have this,” Veronica said silently said, bringing her fist up and slowly opening up her palm to reveal a handful of white pearls.

“No, that’s a very bad idea,” Jughead said quickly, shaking his head at the stupidity of Shadowhunters. Why were they even standing here and discussing it? They should be already inside, looking for Betty, for  _ fuck’s sake! _

“I agree with Jug,” Sweet Pea nodded, “we don’t have the time to do this now. And we-”

A scream of pain interrupted his monologue.

“Arch!” Cheryl screamed back, catching the falling Shadowhunter before he hit the ground. 

Jughead’s eyes immediately scanned his surroundings, looking for any sort of danger and then quickly moving onto Archie’s body in a search for a wound that caused the pain. But there was none; only his hand pressed firmly against his hip, his whole body curling in pain.

“It’s Betty,” Jason whispered just as the realisation hit Jughead.

“I’m going in. Either come with me or get out of my way,” Jughead sneered, voice not leaving any space for negotiation.

Jason quickly turned towards Veronica. “Nobody will force you to take the serum, but please, think about it. It might really come in handy.”

“If there’s even the smallest chance that it might help Betty, there’s nothing to think about,” Veronica answered in a heartbeat.

Jughead had no time to tell her how stupid she was being, because Jason spoke again. “Then do it. We’re going in but I’ll leave Archie with two more guys here with you. You know what to do?”

“Yeah, I remember the process,” Hermione nodded, “but I still think going after that Cooper girl is a waste of time. Shouldn’t you kids discuss it with somebody, I don’t know, with a little more authority?”

Jason stood a little straighter after those words and he addressed Hermione with cold and firm voice. “As the Head of the New York Institute, I believe I have the right to make the call to save my sister-in-law who happens to be one of the best damn Shadowhunters in the world. If you’ve got a problem with that, I’ll gladly let Jughead deal with you.”

A smirk appeared on Jughead’s face, one that was probably a bit too smug and cocky for the situation they were in, but he couldn’t stop himself. The way Hermione’s face dropped was priceless. He’d have to thank Jason later, but now, getting to Betty was all he could think about.

They finally moved towards the ship after that.

Jason quickly went over the plan - Veronica had said that Hiram had around 50 people situated on the top floor. That meant that they were outnumbered, as there were only twenty of them, including him and Sweet Pea. This already felt like a bad idea, but he bit his worries down, instead focusing on what was important - Betty.

Once they reached the room they believed Hiram would be in, Cheryl motioned towards a second door, taking half of the people with her to that’s entrance. Sweet Pea chose to follow her, and Jughead was grateful for that - he much preferred the company of her twin brother.

“On three,” Jason whispered, his fingers pressed against the com in his ear.

Jughead closed his eyes and took a deep breath, image of Betty appearing on the backs of his lids almost immediately.

“One.”

The magic swirled underneath his palms, sparks certainly flying out of his fingers in anticipation. Betty’s laugh rang through his ears.

“Two.” 

The fear, the anxiety, the uneasiness he felt while they were outside subsided and was replaced by waves of serenity washing over him. A soft touch of Betty’s fingers against his own tingled his skin.

“Three.”

His eyes shot open just as one of the Shadowhunters finished drawing an unlock rune and kicked the door open, the old wood coming down with a loud crack. 

Jughead didn’t even bother with properly taking in his surroundings before first glowing ball of magic left his palms, hitting the nearest Shadowhunter in the chest and sending him flying back couple of meters. The simple action was enough for the adrenaline to start flowing through his veins in full power - after everything that has happened during the Uprising all those years ago, he hermited hard. Come to think of it, he hadn’t really used his magic for fighting purposes since that night. 

And once that realisation had hit him, there was no stopping the power from manifesting fully, the usual soft golden glow replaced by angry red fire. 

One would think that a decade and a half would be long enough for somebody to get stiff or forget how to fight, but in that moment, all of those years seemed to evaporate and it felt as if the last time he fought was just yesterday.

He got through another two guys without even paying attention to what was going on, before needing to defend himself for the first time.

His magic did wonders on the long-distance fighting, but close combat was another thing. And although it still gave him a slight advantage, it wasn’t anywhere near as effortless as before. Especially not when three, very bloodthirsty-looking Gargoyles, decided to take on him.

But Jughead had learnt centuries ago the wonders his magic could, especially when fueled by deep emotions. And oh, the anger and frustration that was flowing through his veins right now, those ran  _ deep _ .

It took him a bit longer than he would have liked and one long cut along the length of his arm, his denim jacket already soaked with his blood, but at the end, the three Gargoyles were on the ground, dead or just barely breathing. He smiled to himself, the corners of his lips jerking up just the tiniest bit for a mere second, allowing himself to savour the good feeling of victory.

But that didn’t last long, as his eyes moved up from the bodies next to his feet and scanned the room, not stopping until they found the familiar figure he couldn’t keep his mind off.

It took him just a few sweeps and when he did, his breath got stuck in his throat and his heart skipped a beat - she looked stunning. He had only seen the Shadowhunter in the regular all-black gear with a pair of heavy-duty combat boots and her hair pulled into a tight clean ponytail, but now, even though she seemed to be barely conscious, probably as the aftereffect of being injected with the angelic serum, she still was a vision, in the long golden dress, high heels and soft curls framing her face. 

There was nothing that could make him look away; once his eyes found her, he was completely enchanted and pulled towards her through the room. It was as if she had a magical grip on him, as if she had pulled him under a spell, as if she was the one of the two of them to command magic and not the other way around.

He was almost halfway through the room, when Betty’s eyes shot open.

And with that, everything around them seemed to come to a halt and for a split second, nothing existed apart from the faintly glowing green of her eyes. The once deafening sounds of battle around him were nothing but a faint whispers, the contrasting warm orange light bulbs and light blue seraph blades weren’t an eyesore anymore, instead fusing together in a blur. His heartbeat picked up on pace, no longer running solely on adrenaline and anger, but getting flowed by other emotions. By calmness and hope and-

Betty’s eyelids fell down, breaking their eye contact with one simple blink and with that motion, everything around him resumed with full force. His ears rang from the sudden change and his mind spun faster than was normal, almost managing to knock him off his feet.

He stumbled forward, not allowing himself to take any steps back, not even to regain his posture. He needed to get to Betty.

Barely aware of the fight around him, he strode through the rest of the room at a quick pace, falling on his knees in front of the chair she sat in once he finally reached her. 

“Hey,” Jughead mumbled softly, taking her hand into his. “I thought I told you not to get into any trouble.”

Betty laughed, the sound so soft and innocent that it made Jughead forget all about their situation for a moment.

“I was just trying to protect Veronica,” Betty whispered back. “And the rest,” she added.

“You did great,” Jughead answered and a soft smile sprawled on Betty’s lips. Her eyes fell closed once again and Jughead instinctively sent a wave of magic over her body, quickly checking her physical state and vitals. 

“Is she alright?” A voice behind him asked and he quickly turned around, only then realising that the commotion had already died down, the room almost empty except for a handful of bodies on the floor and about a dozen Shadowhunters hovering over them.

“Yeah, she will be,” Jughead nodded. He ran his fingers against Betty’s temple, tucking a stray hair strand behind her ear.  _ She is strong, she can handle anything. _

“At least some good news,” Cheryl muffed, which got Jughead’s full attention.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Hiram got away with most of his men,” she quickly explained and Jughead’s stomach twisted at her words.

Looking back now, he wasn’t sure if he even saw Lodge in the room; the man probably made a run for it the moment they broke down the doors, leaving a handful of his Gargoyles behind to slow them down. It was a smart move, probably the best he could have chosen.

And yet, something felt off.

Hiram Lodge wanted to get Betty and went through a lot of trouble for it - so why on earth would he leave her behind? Wasn’t this his plan all along? Get his hands on the Tears, inject Betty and then recruit her as the perfect soldier? He did the first two things, so why not go through with the rest of it? What changed?

But no matter how badly he wanted answers to his questions, he couldn’t make himself think with Betty’s heavy passed out body lying in his arms.

She was safe now and that’s all that mattered,  _ right _ ?

***

“I can’t let you in. Boss’ orders.” A harsh voice was the first thing that Betty heard, followed by dissatisfied mumbling and some clatter which origins she couldn’t seem to identify.

She slowly opened her eyes, but shut them back immediately as the harsh white lights reached her pupils. But even those few short moments were enough for her to identify the room she was in - infirmary.  _ What happened - _

A sharp pang of pain shot through her head and if she wasn’t already lying down, she would probably have to. The pain was excruciating and it only worsened the more she tried to remember what had happened.

She remembered Polly and the wedding, she remembered talking to her mother, she remembered throwing all those nasty words to her face. She remembered Hiram and his Gargoyles. The ship, the empty corridors, the two guards. Hiram’s voice filling and commanding the entire room. Warlocks, Downworlders, Veronica and her mother.  _ The Tears of Wisdom. _

_ And Hiram’s words, the ones he whispered into her ear before pushing the serum into her system.  _

And then, just pain and darkness.

She opened her eyes once again, this time slower, allowing them to properly adjust to the sudden burst of light. The infirmary was empty, the only thing apart from her being a computer that kept beeping rhythmically few feet away. Betty sat up on the bed, careful to not make any sudden movements. Her whole body ached and even though it was nothing compared to the pulsating pain her head, it still made her every move that much harder.

But she wasn’t going to give up, no. She persisted, sliding off the bed, onto her feet. She leaned against the edge of the bed as she took the first few steps, carefully finding her footing as she shuffled along the room towards the door. It took her a few seconds to regain enough strength to let go of the bed and take the first step on her own, but after her legs hadn’t disappointed her and managed to carry her, the next step she took was much more confident. By the time she reached the door, it was almost as if nothing had happened at all.

She pushed the handle down, opening the door. The conversation that had been going on behind it halted immediately, the voices falling silent as they took in the sight of her.

“Betty, you’re awake,” Dilton was the first to voice his relief, but Betty barely heard him.

_ How could she, when Jughead Jones was standing right next to him, with an expression of pure relief washing over his face? _

“Hey,” he whispered slowly, as if he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to.

“Dilton, can you go get Archie?” Betty asked without her eyes leaving Jughead’s even for a second.

“I -” Dilton started.

“Now?” Betty’s head snapped at him, her eyes urging the Shadowhunter to go. And he understood, nodding slightly and disappearing behind the corner, leaving Betty alone with Jughead.

“How are you feeling?” Jughead asked carefully.

Betty released a heavy sigh and leaned against the wall behind her, hoping the harsh and cold material of the bricks would ground her. And it did, partially, but still not enough. Her eyes fell closed, giving in to the exhaustion.

“What are you doing here?” she asked instead of answering his question, not trusting herself with lying to him and not feeling quite strong enough to admit the truth.

“I-” Jughead started, but paused immediately and Betty didn’t need to take a look at him to see the conflict on his face, “- I had to make sure you were...  _ okay _ ,” he ended up saying and Betty was no fool to not see right through and realise what he meant by that, what he didn’t say. If her heart wasn’t beating as irregularly as it had been, it surely would have skipped a beat right now. 

Betty didn’t say anything to that, just released a shaky breath, one that she hoped would calm her racing heart and spinning mind.

“Look, Betts,” Jughead started again, his voice a bit lower this time, “I just - you’ve gone through something extremely traumatic and I guess I just wanted to let you know that I’m here. If you want to talk or punch or whatever you do to deal with shit like this.” 

Betty’s eyes opened once again, slowly finding the warlock in front of her and quickly scanning his face, as if trying to find the lie or deceit. But his honest expression held none of those, his eyes kind and smile warm.

“Thanks. For the offer,” Betty mumbled silently, “and for everything.”

“My pleasure,” Jughead answered with a wide grin, one that prompted a small chuckle to leave Betty’s lips. The action seemed only to widen Jughead’s smile and glisten his eyes with happiness.

But before he could say anything, loud rhythmic thuds reached them and Betty didn’t even have time to look up to see to whom they belonged (she knew anyways), before being pulled into a strong embrace.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Archie whispered and Betty almost wanted to laugh - she was the furthest thing from  _ okay _ . But the waves of relief and happiness that she felt seeping through their bond told her to stay silent, to not ruin the happy moment for Archie.

“You’ve got to let me breathe, Arch.” Betty pushed against his chest slightly and the guy reluctantly let go of her, releasing her from the embrace but still keeping his hands on her shoulders, as if he was afraid she might disappear any second.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Archie chuckled, looking over Betty once again, “please, promise me to not do that ever again? I was terrified.”

“Sure, I promise I’ll never get kidnapped again,” Betty answered with a roll of her eyes. Archie just huffed at her answer, but the way Jughead tried to stifle a laugh hadn’t escaped her attention. 

“Don’t joke about things like that,” he shook his head, which only made Betty want to chuckle.

“I’m sorry, alright?” she said with a small smile, hoping it would be enough to calm her brother down and when he released a sigh of relief and nodded, she knew it was.

“Well, I should get going,” Jughead said, “Archie, make sure she gets proper rest and if anything happens, don’t hesitate to contact me, alright?” 

Archie nodded, smiling gratefully at the warlock.

Jughead’s eyes dropped to Betty after that. “And you… Just remember what I said, alright? And please, be careful.”

Betty nodded, unable to find the strength to form a coherent sentence under his intense gaze. It was only once he turned around to leave that words come rushing back to her, trying to spill from her mouth.

But now this was not the time, or place for that.

And yet, she called after him with a small voice. “Jug?”

He spun around, his eyes full of expectations finding hers.

She lifted her hand up almost subconsciously, her fingers reaching for the ring that hung around the chain on her neck, locating the small metal object quickly. “I will.”

Jughead smiled warmly at her, before turning back and walking away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love every single one of you, have i told you that recently? no? then here it is: _i love you._ thank you for writing lovely comments, for reblogging the chapters, for leaving kudos and likes. you're awesome. and so are you, maggie, for betaing this and putting up with my borderline spammy messages i send your way every time i start panicking about something. 
> 
> see you soon with a new update 😘


	14. chapter xiv

Still tired and exhausted from the entire kidnapping and being forcefully injected with the angelic serum, Betty spent most of the rest of the day lying in the infirmary, seamlessly slipping in and out of sleep. People passing around her get blurred together, hushed voices barely distinguishable from the rhythmic beeping of machines surrounding her. 

She knew she should probably try to start regaining her strength and energy, but the bed she lied on was so comfortable and the red fuzzy blanket that somebody (she presumed Cheryl) wrapped her in was made of the softest material ever, and honestly, who would blame her for taking a few more hours to just rest and relax? It’s not like Jason hadn’t tried to force her to do the exact same thing just hours before.

And even though she didn’t agree with his insistences, he usually had the best intentions in his mind, so she would trust him.  _ Just this once. _

“Hey, you asleep?” a soft voice whispered nearby Betty. 

For a second, she contemplated not moving and pretending to be in deep slumber, but once the person ran his warm fingers against Betty’s cheek, she found herself shaking her head quickly. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know that Archie was standing next to her bed, so she didn’t.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. His question was followed by shuffling of his feet and dip in her mattress near her feet.

“Fine. Tired,” Betty said carefully. Her voice sounded strained and her throat was very dry, but neither of those things surprised her; she hadn’t spoken since Jughead left and she couldn’t even remember the last time she drank something. “Thirsty,” she added.

Archie hummed understandingly and the pressure on her mattress lifted immediately. She could hear his boots thumping around the room for a few seconds, followed by the sound of water running from a tap and filling up a glass.

“You’ll have to sit up for this though,” Archie said as he walked back to Betty’s bed. 

She slowly pushed herself up, not daring to make any sudden movements as the last time she did, it made her head spin and threaten with combusting. With her eyes still closed, she reached her arm out and waited until Archie placed the glass between her fingers. It was cold and wet and even such a small sensation set her nerve endings aflame. She quickly brought it up to her lips, downing its entire contents in one go, before returning the empty glass to Archie’s hand.

“Thanks,” she said slowly, testing out how her voice felt now, receiving a pleasant surprise that it was back to normal.  _ If she fixed that, she could fix anything _ .

Next step was opening her eyes. She started slowly, expecting the room to be flooded with harsh white lights, but to her surprise, the only source of light was coming from a small lamp on a bedside table and a monitor. 

She opened her eyes fully after that realisation, blinking a few times to readjust herself to reality and quickly locating Archie.

“I thought you’d prefer the darkness to light,” he shrugged and Betty couldn’t help herself but smile widely. 

“Yeah, it’s much better,” she said appreciatively.

“Glad to hear that,” he said and sat at the end of her bed once again. 

His eyes were fixed on Betty and even a blind person could see that he was lost in his thoughts. Betty could almost hear the wheels spinning in his head, she could feel the ideas and questions running in his mind through their bond.

“A penny for your thoughts?” she asked carefully, her eyes piercing into his and her head dropping to side.

“It’s nothing really -” he started, but didn’t continue, just shook his head. Betty’s eyebrow shot up at that, awaiting a proper answer or explanation.

“You know I can  _ feel  _ you thinking, right?” she asked with a teasing tilt in her voice, expecting Archie to let out a small laugh. But he didn’t and it only made worry grow in Betty’s chest.

“Yeah, I know, I know,” he sighed, rubbing his heads across his face, “I just don’t want to bother you, you’ve got enough on your plate already…”

“Archie,” Betty interrupted him quickly, “you never bother me. Now, will you please tell me what’s going on or do I have to drag you to the training room and beat it out of you?”

That made him chuckle and a little spark of happiness flew through Betty’s chest.

“Fine, I’ll talk. But only because you’re on a mandatory bed rest and I know you’re not kidding,” Archie said and Betty rolled her eyes. 

“So? What’s up?” she prompted him to start talking.

Archie released a heavy sigh, leaning his back against the wall as he settled into Betty’s bed more comfortably.

“It’s about Veronica,” he started. “She also got injected with the Tears.”

“What?” Betty didn’t even try to hide her shock at Archie statement. That couldn’t have been right - Hiram said a person needed to go through a whole preparation process to be able to survive the injection and he clearly implied that Veronica hadn’t. How? Was she alright? What -

“Yeah, apparently, Hermione thought something like this could happen, and so as a precaution she decided to inject Veronica once she was born,” Archie said, which only confused Betty more.

“How does it even work? All of the stuff with the Tears and everything?” Betty asked, carefully eyeing her friend. “How did you figure it all out?”

“We didn’t - Jughead did,” Archie said, quickly launching into a detailed explanation of events that happened after she and Veronica were taken.

“Wait, so Jughead tracked me with this?” Betty asked, interrupting Archie’s monologue. She pulled the ring on a chain out from underneath her shirt, the heavy object swinging in the air between them.

“Yeah,” Archie nodded. “Mom wasn’t very excited about it,” he added with a small voice, almost as if he was hoping that Betty would hear the comment.

_ Oh, but she heard. _

“What? Please, tell me you’re joking and she wasn’t around while he was here,” Betty said pleadingly. Archie shook his head and Betty’s stomach dropped -  _ poor Jughead _ \- she couldn’t even imagine how hard it must have been for him to be in the same room as her mother, to have to look her in the eyes, to have to breathe the same air, to have to feel her presence.

“It wasn’t all that bad,” Archie shrugged and Betty looked at him questioningly, prompting him to explain.

“Well, he made tons of snarky comments and threw a lot of nasty words both her and Polly’s way, but that was about it,” Archie explained.

Betty’s brow only furrowed at his words. Not that she wasn’t glad that Jughead had resorted to sarcasm as a way of defending himself, but some part of her expected him to lash out, to not be able to control himself and his magic. After all, they were talking about being in a room with a person who took away somebody very dear from him…  _ He had every right to react, to show his anger, so why didn’t he? _

“You knew,” Archie said after a while, bringing Betty back to present.

“Knew what?” she asked quickly, unsure of what Archie meant.

“About mom being a Gargoyle. About what the deal with ring was,” Archie supplied.

“Yeah,” Betty nodded simply.

Archie closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if trying to calm himself before saying anything more. “How are you taking it?”

“I-” Betty started, but wasn’t sure how to continue. Since Jughead told her the truth about her mother, about all of the horrible things she had done, Betty did her best to avoid facing the heavy reality of his words. Apart from one short conversation with her mother at the wedding, which spun out of control rather quickly, Betty did anything she could to occupy her mind. And more often than not, that was achieved by occupying her body. 

But now, on a mandatory bed rest (which she was sure Archie wasn’t going to let slide just like that), there was no way for her to distract herself with training or working and the reality seemed to start catching up with that fact, slowly closing in around her. Her mother was a cold-blooded murderer, a liar and a traitor and  _ yet _ , yet she didn’t have to pay for her crimes,  _ yet _ she got off scratch free. 

“Slowly,” Betty sighed at the end, “all my life, she had always made me work twice as hard, made sure I was the picture-perfect daughter and soldier. She always emphasized how the family name means everything, how I’m supposed to protect and improve our legacy. And you know what’s the worst thing about it?” Betty asked, with a mock laughter. “I still believe that. Even more after learning how she did nothing but drag our name through mud all those years ago.”

Betty hadn’t really thought about it before, but once those words left her mouth, she knew that behind all of their heaviness, there’s a lot of truth. She still cares,  _ heaven _ , she cares even more than ever before. Her mother made mistakes, unforgivable and unforgettable ones, and Betty would honestly love nothing more than to see her pay for them. However, at the same time, no matter how much she didn’t want to, she couldn’t deny understanding her mother’s reasons for always pushing her, for always making her strive for perfection. She hated it, every single second of it, but now, at least she partially understood.

“Hey, it’s okay to believe that, Betts,” Archie said with a supportive smile. “I just wanted to check up on you.”

“Thanks,” Betty smiled. She paused for a moment, thinking over their entire conversation. “Anyways, you said you wanted to talk about Veronica?”

Archie looked at her confusedly for a second, before snapping out of it as if he suddenly remembered the reason he initiated the conversation. “Yeah, right, Veronica,” he nodded.

“How is she?” Betty asked.

“She is surprisingly well.” Archie hummed slowly, “too well, considering your state.”

Betty’s brows furrowed at that. “What do you mean by that?”

“You’ve been out almost the entire day, only waking up for few minutes at a time,” Archie rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “and she, she is just fine.”

“So, she's awake?” Betty asked. Surely, that was weird if they took her state into consideration, but the thing was, they didn’t really know exactly how the Tears were supposed to work; they could easily have a different effect on every person.

“Yeah,” Archie hesitantly agreed and Betty didn’t even have to look at him to know he wasn’t saying something.

“Arch, c’mon, just out with it,” Betty encouraged him.

“It’s probably really stupid,” he shook his head and dropped his gaze, which only made Betty roll her eyes at him.

“Tell me anyways?” she asked kindly, hoping that it would be enough to persuade her friend to share whatever it was that burdened his heart with her.

“We had this moment, during the wedding,” Archie started explaining slowly, “we talked and laughed and danced and I swear we almost kissed.”

“Alright… So why are you worried? Isn’t that a good thing?”

“It is,” Archie nodded, “except she acts as if nothing has happened. She’s been acting all weird.”

“How weird?” Betty asked, her interest peaking.

“She’s been avoiding me, for starters. And she has spent like the entire day locked in the library, reading some books or whatever. And she hadn’t asked about you or came to check on you, not even once,” Archie explained.

Betty considered his words for a few seconds, trying to make sense of what all of that could mean.

“I’m sure it’s nothing Arch,” she sighed after a few moments, “she surely is fine. She might have agreed to get injected with the Tears out of her own will, but it doesn’t have to mean that she is necessarily completely fine with it. Everybody deals with their life being changed in different ways and if Veronica decides she needs some space, probably to better understand and come to terms with the change, then I think she should get it.”

Archie listened to her words carefully, taking each one of them fully in before saying something. “I suppose you’re right,” he hummed, “thanks.”

“No problem.” 

Betty gave him a small smile and he returned the favour before letting his head drop back against the wall and his eyes fall shut. The room fell into silence, filled only with the sounds of their breaths and beeping of the machines nearby. The combinations of warmth radiating off Archie’s body and the appreciation and thankfulness she could feel through their bond made her eyelids heavy rather quickly. So, she slowly allowed them to fall closed and let the sense of peace and security drag her to sleep.

***

After that, life got somewhat back to normal and at the same time, everything seemed marginally different.

Thankfully, Jason had stopped with all of that taking a break bullshit, allowing Betty to return to her normal daily schedule, one that consisted of training, patrolling, overseeing missions from the Operations Center and leading missions in the field.

First day back, after a quick warm-up session with Archie that did wonders for her tense muscles (who knew that a day of bed rest could do that?), she dragged Dilton and a couple of other guys to field, completing the mission they planned to take on the day after the wedding, before all of the stuff with Hiram and Gargoyles went down. But no matter how much Betty wanted her life to return back to normal where she was rarely in the centre of attention, where she was rarely the topic of talks and whispers amongst the Shadowhunters, there seemed to be no way to make everybody forget what has happened.

That Hiram Lodge had injected her, out of all people, with an angelic serum and then fled, leaving her behind. That there was something flowing in her blood, something different, something unknown and therefore, something dangerous. Which apparently meant that she wasn’t the same Betty Cooper as she had been days ago, the kind friend who always offered a helping hand; now, she was somebody whose gaze people avoided and rage feared.

It was pointless to tell them there was nothing to be afraid of; it’s not like any of them actually knew what the serum did to her. Out of all of the tests that medics ran on her since she got back, none showed anything wrong or different. And apparently even Jughead checked up one her using his magic while she was unconscious, revealing nothing out of the ordinary. 

_ Maybe it didn’t work; maybe it isn’t really supposed to work _ . 

There was no way to know, no way to say - apart from the book that Jughead found, her and Veronica seemed to be the first people to be injected and live to tell the tale.  _ Well, it wasn’t like there was much to tell anyways… _

“Betty, get Jason and meet me outside, now?” Archie’s voice reached her ears, snapping her head up from the map of New York she had been carefully studying (well, she was more getting lost in her own thoughts than focusing on the demon activity through the city streets, but nobody really needed to know that, right?). 

Archie was dressed in his patrol gear and standing barely over the threshold of the Institute’s entrance - his chest was heaving heavily, neck was covered in drops of sweat and was that blood on his arm? She gave him one more questioning look-over before nodding and turning around, heading towards Jason’s office.

Betty didn’t bother with knocking, just reached for the doorknob and opened the door. That turned out to be a mistake, as her unannounced barging in startled the two people inside, catching them in a rather unfortunate situation.

“Betty!” Polly squealed immediately, her face reddening with every second.

“I’m sorry,” Betty said quickly, moving her head to look at the wall instead of the desk where her sister and brother-in-law were making out very inappropriately, considering the rather public and formal setting. “Jason, Archie needs you for something.”

“Can’t it wait?” Jason asked and even though Betty wasn’t looking at him, she could hear the annoyance clear in his voice. 

“He sounded pretty urgent,” Betty shook her head, forcing herself to look away from the wall and at Jason. 

Jason sighed and nodded, turning towards Polly. “I’ll be right back, alright?” She nodded and gave him a small peck on the lips before letting him leave.

Betty rolled her eyes visibly at Jason, hoping he would get the memo that the PDA was not appreciated.

And he did, because once the office door shut behind them, an apology was on his lips instantly. “I’m really sorry you had to walk in on that. I swear that’s not how we do our jobs.”

“So, you don’t just make out the entire day while we bust our asses out here?” Betty asked with a raised eyebrow and a small chuckle as they walked through the Operations Centre.

“You have watched and helped my parents with running the Institute almost as many times as I had. You know there’s barely any time for that,” Jason said, making a vague hand gesture in the air as an attempt to make up for a lack of a better word.

“I’m just joking,” Betty laughed playfully and opens the door for them, letting Jason to be the first to step out of the Institute into the cold night.

“Should have taken my jacket,” he said, shivering slightly to emphasize his words.

“Seriously?” Betty rolled her eyes and quickly passed him her stele. He gratefully accepted it, drawing a _warmth_ _rune_ on his wrist before returning it to Betty, who just stuck it back into her pocket. 

“So, what’s up?” Jason asked as they approached Archie and Veronica, who were waiting for them a few meters into the park.

“Alright, this is going to sound crazy, but hear me out?” Archie said.

Betty saw Jason eyeing Archie suspiciously, probably taking in all of his nervous ticks and Betty would be doing the same, except she didn’t need to - she could feel the anxiety and fear radiating off her parabatai. Something had happened and it didn’t sound good.

“So, we’ve arrived at this place and it seemed empty, so I let Veronica go in first. I was covering her the entire time, I swear! I wouldn’t let anything hurt her, I didn’t lay my eyes off her for one second-”

“Archie, get to the point,” Jason interrupted him, seeing that Archie’s train of thoughts kept slipping away from the topic.

“Yeah, the point. So, it wasn’t empty and this vampire surprised us, jumping out from a closet behind me. He knocked the blade out of my hand and before I knew what was happening he had me in his grasp, threatening to kill me if Veronica moved.”

Betty gasped audibly, worry and fear filling her up quickly. But Archie was alright and so was Veronica, at least from the looks of it.  _ So, what happened? _

“He told me to put my blade away, so I did, placing it on the floor,” Veronica continued, “I was so afraid and I had no idea what to do. And then it happened.”

“What happened?” Betty and Jason said in unison.

“I saw this rune,” Veronica said carefully, “I’m no expert in runes by any means, I still have tons to learn, but I had never seen it before.”

“How? And what rune?” Jason asked confusedly.

“I don’t know how - I was staring at Archie and the vampire, terrified for my and his life and suddenly, there was a rune. So I took out my stele and drew it on my palm,” Veronica explained.

“What did the rune do?” Betty asked, picking probably the most important question out of all that had been running through her mind.

“Let me show you,” the girl replied. She quickly took out her stele and started drawing a shape Betty didn’t recognise onto the skin of her palm.

“Stand back,” Archie whispered in Betty and Jason’s direction, stretching out his arm protectively in front of them. Betty’s eyebrow shot up the action, giving Archie a questioning look. But before he had a chance to answer in any way, all of their attentions were brought back to Veronica.

Well, not as much to Veronica as to the beam of light that shot up from her palm, from the place where she started drawing the rune just second ago. The ray of light was bright and blinding and even from few meters afar, Betty could feel the heat radiating off of it.

After the few seconds that brought day into the middle of night, the ray of light died out and allowed darkness to surround them once again. And with darkness came silence, full of shock and confusion.

“I have never seen anything like that,” Jason said carefully, his voice sounding quite distant, lost in thought.

“Me neither,” Betty shook her head, trying to think back, trying to remember if anything she had ever read mentioned some sort of light-shooting rune.

“So, are you telling me that I created a new rune?” Veronica asked unsurely, “is that possible?”

“It shouldn’t be,” Jason frowned, “unless-”

“Unless the Tears gave you the ability to do so,” Betty finished for him.

“Is that possible?” Archie asked.

“It’s not impossible,” Betty answered, “it’s not like we have any idea what the serum can do. Maybe that’s its effect.” 

Maybe she could ask Jughead about it, maybe there was something more in that book, something that could shed some light onto the situation. And she probably could try to do some research as well, see if there are any records of Shadowhunters in past creating new runes and if there’s any correlation between them and the timeline of the estimated location of the Tears she had put together while looking for the artefact. Maybe somebody used them but didn’t know what it was, maybe somebody-

“Can you do it?” Jason’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Can I do what?” Betty asked, not quite sure what he meant by the question.

“The sun-rune,” Jason supplied.

“I suppose if Veronica showed me how it looks, I should be able to draw it…” Betty started, but paused mid-thought.  _ Oh, he probably didn’t mean it like that.  _ “I have no idea,” she admitted.

For a moment, she had forgotten all about being injected with the same stuff as Veronica, about the high probability that she possessed the same powers.

“Are you going to try?” Veronica asked.

“I can,” Betty hummed, reaching for her stele. 

She ran her fingers along the cold metal few times, feeling the subtle stream of energy flowing underneath the surface. She placed the tip of it against the middle of her palm and closed her eyes. With a deep inhale, she directed all of her focus and willpower into one sole purpose,  _ a rune _ . But nothing came, not even a faint push or a subtle tugging.

Betty held on, keeping her breath in for a few seconds, but once she let go, she knew it was pointless to try again. She felt nothing, nothing at all.

“Maybe it doesn’t work like this - after all, the rune came to me in a very stressful and emotional situation. You probably can’t just force it to happen,” Veronica said with a supporting voice.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” Betty nodded and gave her friend a tight-lipped smile, pushing the bittersweet feeling she felt as far down as possible.

She was happy and proud of her friend. 

She truly was.

_ If only it was as easy to believe as to think. _

***

Even though the four Shadowhunters tried to keep the news about Veronica’s ability under wraps for as long as possible, rumours spread fast and not even two days have passed before everybody in the Institute knew. Which Betty would have been totally alright with, since it’s just the Institute. It’s not like anybody here would even dream of doing something about it, not really.

The trouble seemed to arrive only once the word got out and to Riverdale. When they originally reported Lodge’s attack and their kidnapping to the Clave, the officials barely even batted an eyelid on that and when they told them about the Tears of Wisdom and having two Shadowhunters injected with the serum, they shrugged and suggested that the Shadowhunters of New York should stop believing in silly legends and bedtime stories.

However, once they heard about Veronica’s ability to create new runes, it took them less than an hour to come striding through the portal, demanding explanations and updates on the matter.

And sadly, with the arrival of highest-ranking Clave members, so did Alice Cooper.

Betty would have lied if she said the suspense and waiting hadn’t been killing her. All of the Clave members locked themselves away in one of the meeting rooms, along with Jason, Polly and Veronica, dismissing everybody else. And Betty was angry. She worked hard her entire life, climbing higher and achieving more, so she wouldn’t be left out of conversations like these. That people wouldn’t shut doors in her face, that people would value her opinions and inputs on matters instead of pushing her away, of hiding things from her. She deserved to be in that room. And if not for her social position, then surely the fact that she had been injected with the serum as well should have been enough to grant an invitation.

But no such thing happened and now, all that was left for her to do was to wait outside of the door, pacing nervously back and forth, until her head started spinning from the turns and the soles of her feet started hurting from the hard floors.

“You know, I’m technically allowed to shoot you if you keep doing that,” Cheryl snickered from her spot on the floor. She was pissed about being kept out of the conversation as well, but she seemed to be handling it a lot better than Betty did. Well, if sitting next to the meeting room and sharpening arrowheads could be described as better. Betty thought of it as a great passive-aggressive gesture.

“Ha-ha,” Betty rolled her eyes and continued pacing, “you aren’t.”

“I’d say you went mad and I had no other choice than to end your suffering,” Cheryl shrugged, running her finger against the sharpened arrowhead, “they would probably believe me.”

Betty took a deep breath and was about to retort with a clever comeback, but the door to the meeting room opened and just like that, her conversation with Cheryl came to an end.

Neither of the girls said anything, just patiently waited until all of the Clave officials exited the room, giving each one of them a polite nod and greeting. After the last one of them had passed them, they both headed inside, finding their friends still seated along the long table in the middle of the room.

“What happened?” Cheryl immediately asked.

But before any of them had a chance to answer, the door opened once again. The sound of heels clicking against the floor echoed through the room and Betty didn’t even had to hear her mother’s voice to know what was coming next. “Elizabeth, may I speak with you in private?” As always, the words well full of politeness and - well, that was really it.  _ No love, no affection _ . 

“We’ll leave you,” Jason offered, quickly getting up from his chair and signaling Polly and Veronica to do the same. He offered Betty a supportive smile as he passed by her, before quickly ushering the girls out and shutting the heavy wooden door behind them, leaving her alone with Alice.

The room was eerily silent, except for the chirping of the birds behind the tall stained-glass windows and low buzzing of noises coming through the wall that separated the meeting room from the Operations Centre. But the lack of noise wasn’t peaceful in any shape or form. No, instead it felt heavy and drowning, almost like a silence before a storm. And the storm was coming, and it was in form of fury and wrath. 

Betty just wasn’t quite sure if it was her mother or hers.

“What were you thinking, Elizabeth?” Alice was the first to break the silence and with it, also a piece of Betty’s heart. 

“What was I thinking? What were you thinking, mother?” Betty snapped back quickly.

“You will not speak with me with that tone! I am your mother and I deserve respect,” her mother all but screamed, her stance and voice angry and defensive. Betty’s fingers curled into fists, nails pushing against the soft skin of her palms.

“Oh, are you? Last time I checked, you were too busy doing Lodge’s biding and injecting me with an ancient serum, which for all you knew could have killed me on the spot. Last time I checked, you were more concerned about keeping up the image of a picture-perfect family than about the actual family,” Betty said angrily. She couldn’t bring herself to care, not now, not anymore and yet, her knuckles turned white as her fingernails drew blood and anger that raged through her was far from impartial.

For a split second, Alice looked taken aback by her words, but the moment passed as soon as it came and the cold and unreadable expression had settled on her mother’s face once again. “Excuse me if I had been trying to fix my mistakes the past fifteen years,” Alice shook her head. “I have sacrificed everything to return the Cooper name to its former glory and then you go and destroy all of my hard work.”

A desperate laugh escaped Betty’s lips. “I have destroyed your hard work? How? I have devoted every single day of my life, every stupid second of it, to upholding law and being the perfect Shadowhunter you wanted me to be. Every single second! I never questioned the career path you picked or chose my own like Polly, I never slacked off and argued with officials like Cheryl, I never let my shyness and fears get the best of me like Jason, I never sneaked out to Downworlder parties and girl’s houses like Archie. No, I studied, I trained and I followed every single order. How can you not see that I have done everything you have asked of me, mother?”

Betty didn’t even realise that tears started welling up in her eyes, at least not until she could feel the warm stream running down her cheek. She quickly reached up and wiped them away, because  _ a girl should never cry in front of others, it just shows how weak she is, Elizabeth. _

“You can stop with the lies, I know the truth,” Alice said and strode towards Betty, erasing the distance between them with few long steps.

On a whim, Betty closed her eyes, mentally preparing herself for a slap that she half-expected to come. Her mother had never hit her, but Betty didn’t think for a second that she wouldn’t be capable of doing it.

But Alice’s hand never reached as high as Betty’s cheek, instead stopping near the nook of her neck. Her fingers barely brushed over Betty’s skin before grabbing onto the chain that hung around Betty’s neck, pulling it out from underneath her shirt.

Betty’s arm immediately shot up, capturing the ring in her surely-bloodied palm before her mother had a chance to do it herself. A futile attempt to hide the precious artefact from her mother’s prying eyes, even though it came too late.

“So it’s true,” her mother slowly hummed. “I have never expected you to stoop so low.”

Betty had to stop her jaw from dropping at her mother’s words, but she couldn’t stop her throat from drying out and mind blanking, suddenly unaware of how to form words. And Alice took that as an opening to start talking.

“Do you want to know why I was always so hard on you? Why I let Polly and Archie do whatever they wanted, why I never batted an eyelid on all of the trouble and havoc that the Blossom twins caused? Because none of them were you, Betty,” Alice said and Betty couldn’t stop herself from thinking that the last sentence sounded almost affectionate.  _ Almost loving _ . “None of them were as talented or as clever as you. None of them made me as proud.”

Betty was pretty sure that her heart skipped a beat - no,  _ no _ , she must have been dreaming. There was no way the kind words and warm tone were coming from her mother,  _ no _ , something must have gone terribly wrong. She took a step back, shaking her head in confusion.  _ What was happening? _

“You’ve always been a perfect Shadowhunter, excelling in all categories and areas. And you’ve caught eyes of quite a few Clave officials, both professionally and romantically speaking,” her mother continued.

Betty felt as if somebody filled her up with tons of stones and threw her to a river, letting her fall underneath the water, letting her get thrown around by the rapid current, letting her wash away and drown. Her vision started getting blurry and white noise in her ears intensified.

“So many opportunities were waiting for you, a nice husband to start a family with, a possibility to earn your own Institute or take on an important role within the Clave,” her mother said, the kindness in her voice replaced by sorrow and disappointment. “And you threw all of that away for some warlock.”

The entire world seemed to come to a halt around Betty, freezing in the moment as the words left her mother’s mouth. Even the excited chirping of birds died out and buzz coming from the Operations Centre ceased. Nothing was happening, nothing was moving, everything had stopped. Except for Betty’s irregular breaths, desperate ringing in her ears and the anger flowing through her veins.

_ None of them were you, Betty. None of them were as talented or as clever as you. None of them made me as proud. _

A sob escaped Betty’s mouth, accompanied by more of the tears she had tried to push away. Her ears were ringing almost to a painful point, and yet, her mother’s words carried through her mind as clear as day. Come to think of it, she couldn’t remember the last time her mother called her anything but Elizabeth; come to think of it, she couldn’t remember the last time her mother called her talented or clever. Come to think of it, she couldn’t remember the last time her mother said she was proud of her.

_ So many opportunities were waiting for you. Your own Institute. _

Betty’s breath stuttered at the words - something she had dreamt of as a child. A dream she did her best to move on from as she grew older, believing she would never be enough. There was always somebody stronger, somebody smarter, somebody with more prestigious family name. She was never first, never in the spotlight - always in shadows. Never appreciated for all of her hard work, never appreciated for all of her accomplishments. Not that she craved the validation, not that she craved the attention. She was just looking for something that would fill the gaping hole in her heart.

_ And you threw all of that away for some warlock. _

The hold on the metal ring in her hand tightened, the hard edges painfully digging into the fresh wounds covering the soft skin of her palm. But the sting was welcoming, grounding even. The ringing in her ears hadn’t subsided and neither the blurriness of her sight, but the foggy haze that has settled on her mind seemed to slowly start lifting up. Her breathing became more regular and her heart stopped trying to escape her ribcage. She felt energy pulsating in her veins, washing over her body like calming waves. Not dragging her underneath the surface anymore, no. Instead, offering peacefulness and serenity. Offering calmness.

Betty released one last deep breath and with it, the world seemed to restart right back - the annoying ringing subsiding from her ears and the tingling energy disappearing from underneath her skin, instead replaced by the voices and noises of nature coming in through the walls. 

“You’re wrong, mother,” Betty said slowly partially expecting her voice to come off shaky, but it was nothing but determined and strong. “I hadn’t thrown anything away.”

There was so much more that Betty wanted to say, so much more she wanted her mother to understand. How the Downworlders weren’t bad people at all, how they were kind and helpful. How if a friendship with a warlock - and not just any, but the High Warlock of Brooklyn - was enough of a reason for the Clave to overlook all of her hard work and achievements, if it was enough for them to disregard her in consideration for an important position, then she didn’t even want to be considered in the first place. How things and people weren’t just good or bad, just black or white.

But she could find words that would describe her thoughts well enough, she couldn’t find words that would convey her emotions well enough for her mother to understand. 

“Please, excuse me, but I need some air,” Betty ended up saying.

She pushed past her mother, walking out of the meeting room without even waiting for her mother’s dismissal or a goodbye. She walked through the Institute, ignoring the questioning looks that random Shadowhunters kept sending her way, ignoring Cheryl calling her name. 

She exited the Institute without stopping and continued walking forward, without any sense of direction or destination. Just alone with her thoughts in the cold rainy night and with her hand still clutching around the metal ring around her neck.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love y'all so much and i'm sorry for the lack of bughead in this chapter, but i promise there'll be plenty of that in the next one! so just hold on and not give up on me (pretty please 🙈)
> 
> thank you for the lovely comments on the last chapter and i can't wait to hear your thoughts and opinions on these developments (as always) 💕
> 
> see you on sunday 😘


	15. chapter xv

Jughead had lived long enough to know what being alone felt like; albeit, he had his sister around for the vast majority of his life, but not even somebody as close and dear as she was to him could completely erase the loneliness that the immortal life carried. And although he never minded that feeling, he actually had grown quite fond of it, there always were nights when the darkness and silence of his large loft crept up on him, its long fingers reaching and grasping on the ends of his mind, on the insecurities and questions that haunted him.

And that night, when he finally came home from a long and exhausting meeting with the Warlock Council, after finally dealing with the sentence for Evelyn Evernever’s crimes, he wanted nothing more than to pour himself a drink and enjoy the solitude and calmness. But he knew what solitude was supposed to feel like and he found none as he stepped into his loft.

Subconsciously, he immediately checked his wards. They were still up, the faint protective magical signature pulsating around his loft undisturbed. Jughead’s brows furrowed; whoever was in his home got in without disturbing his wards, without setting off any alarms, mundane or magical ones.

The room was rather dark, the only source of light being far-away lights of New York city hidden behind a rain curtain, but yet, Jughead didn’t reach over for a light switch, instead letting a few golden sparks escape the tips of his fingers, settling around his hands and providing just enough light to get around safely without knocking over some random artefact he totally forgot about.

Jughead carefully walked through the entrance hall, entering his living room. His eyes scanned every single corner, searching desperately for the intruder, but nothing stood out. His kitchen turned out to be as empty as the living room, and neither the study or the bathroom yielded any results. By the time he reached the last door he needed to check, the one leading to his bedroom, his magic was already growing impatient, the golden light shining brighter with each passing second.

Cautiously, he reached for the doorknob, pushing the door open.

He was met with a stream of light breeze accompanied by the smell of fresh rain, both of those things dragging his eyes to the open window. And there, on the fire escape, sat a clear silhouette of a person. 

His magic reacted almost instantly, glowing with bright light, ready to be released at the intruder. But before Jughead had a chance to do that, the person spoke up.

“Hey,” she said and the single word was enough for the sparks covering Jughead’s arms to fade out peacefully.

“Betty,” Jughead more breathed out than really said, slowly walking over the room to the window. “How- What?” he stumbled, unsure of what he should ask first.

Betty just laughed at that, but there was something about the sound that didn’t sit quite right with Jughead. No, it wasn’t the happy and carefree ringing he had heard before, no. It sounded strained, it sounded tired, it sounded desperate. “You said you were here for me if I needed somebody. And right now, I really do,” she whispered, her voice shaky and low.

Jughead nodded in understanding. “Have you been waiting for long?” he asked, his head falling to the side as he carefully eyed the Shadowhunter in front of him.

“An hour? Maybe two?” Betty offered without meeting his gaze.

“You’ve been sitting here for two hours?” Jughead asked, unsure if he had heard correctly. “It’s raining, Betts - you’ll catch a cold.”

He extended his arm towards her, inviting her to cross the threshold of the window and enter the room, but she just shook her head, not even attempting to move from the spot she was sitting at.

Jughead sighed and for a second contemplated his options before making a decision.

“Scooch over,” he said quickly pushing lightly on Betty’s legs, moving them out his way before climbing out through the window. He settled on the other side of the small fire escape, letting one of his legs hang down from the side while settling the second one parallely to Betty’s.

He then lifted his head to look at Betty’s face, only to find the girl already staring at him.

“What?” Jughead asked with a small chuckle, “you thought I’d leave you here alone?” 

Betty broke their gaze after that, her head falling down but Jughead managed to catch a glimpse of a small smile playing on her lips.

They sat in silence after that, one that was disturbed only by the rain falling down, rhythmically hitting the metal bars of the fire escape, the glass windows of the building and the leaves of trees down on the street.

Jughead kept stealing small glances at the girl in front of him, taking in her soaked and clearly disturbed state one second at a time. Her ponytail was messy, far from the perfection that sat at her head the first few times they met. Her eyes seemed exhausted, with deep dark circles running underneath them and redness just underlining the entire look. Her hands trembled, just ever so slightly, and something told Jughead that it wasn’t simply just because she was cold.

Without even realising what he was doing, he lifted his hand from his lap and placed it gently on Betty’s leg. She didn’t jerk at the touch, but he could feel the muscles tensing up underneath his palm. However, once his thumb started tracing small circles into the fabric of her jeans, the tension seemed to disappear immediately and he couldn’t stop a small smile from forming on his lips; the regular movement seemed to have the same effect on her as it did on him, all those days ago.

“Thank you,” Betty’s voice broke the silence after a few long minutes. Jughead’s eyes had been fixed on the spot his hand lied on Betty’s leg, but they lifted at the sound of her voice, looking for her green pair. But Betty’s eyes were shut, her head leaning back against the railing.

“May I ask what for?” Jughead asked, stopping the movements of his thumb for as he turned his full attention to Betty. 

She hummed lightly, a sound that Jughead would consider to be an agreeing one, but no words followed.

“And will you tell me?” he asked, hoping that it would be enough for her to speak up.

“In a while,” Betty answered and even though it wasn’t what Jughead wanted to hear, it was something. 

_Baby steps._

He nodded, allowing the silence to take over once again, but Betty had other plans.

“Can we talk about something else for now?” she asked. Jughead’s eyebrow shot up and a questioning look surely appeared on his face, but Betty hadn’t seen any of those, her eyes still remaining shut.

“Sure,” Jughead said, “what would you like to talk about?” He tilted his tilting to the side as he waited for an answer.

“Everything- Anything,” Betty said slowly. “I just like listening to your voice,” she quickly added.

Jughead would be lying if he said that Betty’s words didn’t send a warm rush through his body, one that started in the bottoms of his feet and flew all the way to his cheeks.

“Well, I suppose I could indulge you for a while,” Jughead said teasingly and when a soft smile broke on Betty’s lips, he couldn’t help but grin widely. 

He thought quickly, yet carefully about the subject of their conversation. Even a blind person could see the state the Shadowhunter in front of him was and since he had no idea what the cause was, all of the Shadowhunter-related questions were off the table, as he figured that to be the most probable cause for her current state. Jughead was pretty sure he didn’t want to breach the subject of her family either, and even though friends seemed like a good option, it still felt too close to those topics above. He needed something else, something completely different, _think Jones_ , what do you talk about with a girl?

“What do you love about New York?” Betty’s question surprised him, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Why do you assume I love this city?” Jughead asked in return, carefully watching Betty.

“You could live anywhere in the world and yet, here you are, with a loft that has the most stunning view of it. Why?” Betty’s head moved after that question, disconnecting from its resting place against the railing and her eyes finally opened, showing nothing but genuine interest.

Even in the dimly lit fire escape, the green in her eyes shone brightly and maybe in any other situation, it would have rendered Jughead speechless, but right now it worked as a magical spell, untangling his tongue and pushing the words out. “We - Jellybean and me - moved around a lot after leaving Spain and yet, no place felt like home. That was until we arrived here; something about this city just felt right. So we settled in and I hadn’t thought about moving ever since.”

Betty’s gaze was intense and for a second, Jughead wondered if she could see straight into his soul, if she could sense his deepest secrets and darkest insecurities. But then she blinked and the moment broke; and while her eyes were still fixed on him, the shiver that started running down his spine was gone.

“I have always wanted to visit Spain - the Institute in Madrid is said to be one of the most exquisite ones. I didn’t know you were born there,” Betty said eventually and Jughead felt relieved that that was the part she chose to focus on. He wasn’t sure how many questions about his sister he could answer before guilt eventually caught up to him.

“I can take you there one day,” Jughead offered without thinking twice. Or even once, for that matter. He quickly opened his mouth to say something - anything, in an attempt not to scare Betty off with the forwardness of the offer, but-

“I’d love that,” Betty said before he had a chance to take his offer back and once Jughead’s eyes were met with Betty’s happy wide grin, all of the fears and regrets flew out of the window. “Tell me something about Spain?” she prompted him and he nodded, obliging without a second thought.

“You would have loved Toledo, especially back in the day. The city was simply stunning, always buzzing with people from different parts of the world, just a big mix of so many different cultures,” Jughead said dreamily, letting the memories take him back to the hot streets of the ancient city. “We lived in this small apartment, on the border of a Muslim and Jewish borough and let me tell you, there was no such thing as a boring day. The streets were always alive with celebrations or fights, with people calling and preaching their religions and beliefs. It fascinated me a lot back then, religions and stuff. I really wanted to understand what those people saw… but then, that was all before all of this happened.” Jughead just generally waved his hand around, leaving a light trace of golden sparks behind in the air.

Betty didn’t say anything straight away, just watched the sparks slowly fade out in the air. “New York reminds you of home,” she said, more of a statement than a question.

But still, Jughead felt a need to answer. “New York is my home,” he said simply, “but I suppose you’re right. In many ways, it’s like Toledo; only much louder, cloudy and… neon.”

Betty laughed at that, the bubbly sound almost drowned out by the still pouring rain, but nothing escaped Jughead’s attention. And especially nothing about Betty.

“When was the last time you had gone back?” Betty asked.

Jughead tried not to wince at that question, but he couldn’t stop his smile from disappearing and he certainly couldn’t stop the observant Shadowhunter sitting across him from noticing. “I hadn’t,” he answered simply.

“I’m sorry,” Betty said quickly.

Jughead shook his head, the movement sending dozens of raindrops running down his face from his soaked hat and hair. He reached up, tugging the beanie down from his head and running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to make them not stick to his forehead (which surely must have made him look like a fool) and also to rid them from at least some of the wetness (he did manage that, but the rain undid his job in mere seconds).

“You don’t need to apologise,” Jughead shrugged and started picking on a stray thread of his beanie. He’d need to fix that later, but for now, pulling at the grey thread seemed to be weirdly calming.

“Can we go inside?” Betty asked suddenly.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Jughead nodded quickly, already moving to the window. He climbed in quickly and waited for Betty to do the same, but the girl hesitated before entering, making Jughead’s eyebrows shoot up in question.

“I don’t want to get your carpet wet,” she said with a small voice and Jughead almost rolled his eyes.

“Stop worrying about that and get in,” Jughead said, offering his hand, which she eventually took, although Jughead could sense the hesitation in her every move.

“Alright, you must be freezing - let me get you something dry to wear, alright dear?” he asked and without waiting for an answer, he snapped his fingers. A dry towel with a pair of black sweatpants and one of his old shirts materialised in his hands. He quickly passed the pile to Betty.

“Bathroom is just through there,” he said, motioning to one of the two bedroom doors.

Betty didn’t say anything, but her thankful smile and nod spoke volumes. 

Jughead watched after her, waiting until disappeared behind the bathroom’s door before taking care of himself. A quick snap of his fingers was enough to send his soaked clothes onto a hanger and replace them with dry ones. He summoned another towel after that and made quick work of running it through his hair, trying to get as much moisture out as possible. He knew his hair would look like a mess and he would kill for his beanie right now, but he hated using his magic on it, too afraid of destroying the precious item. So, he carefully placed it on his nightstand instead, knowing it would dry off naturally there.

He left the bedroom after that, leaving the door open behind himself so Betty would know where to go, and headed towards the kitchen. Even though he felt a feeling of warmth rushing through his body on several occasions while they sat outside, he was freezing. And he was hungry.

While lost deep in thought, contemplating whether he should just summon some take-out from the Chinese place down the street or if he should call to Pop’s and ask him for a double order of their legendary burger and fries, or maybe even opening up a portal and getting the food himself, Jughead missed the light tapping of feet against his wooden floors, not noticing that Betty has entered the kitchen until she was standing right in front of him. The sweatpants were a bit too long for her legs and the shirt did everything but hug her features, but yet, she didn’t seem lost in the baggy clothes. No, she shone brightly as ever and for a moment, Jughead’s mind completely blanked out, unable to form a coherent thought or a sentence.

“I left my clothes in the bathroom to dry out - I hope that’s okay,” Betty said carefully, her soft voice breaking the fragile moment, snapping Jughead out of his haze.

“Yeah, sure, no problem,” he hummed, “I was just about to order some food - do you want anything?”

Betty didn’t answer immediately, but Jughead hadn’t missed the way her eyes twinkled with excitement over the prospect of food. “I wouldn’t want to burden you any more than I already had,” she started slowly, but Jughead just raised his hand, silencing her immediately.

“You aren’t a burden,” he shook his head. “Burgers fine with you?” he asked immediately after and Betty nodded.

So Jughead pulled out his phone, dialing one of the five numbers he had stored in his contacts.

And as always, Pop picked up after the first ring.

“Pop’s Chock’lit shoppe, how may I serve you today?” Pop’s cheery voice sounded through the speaker and Jughead couldn’t help himself but to smile widely.

“Pop! Can I get my regular twice?” Jughead asked quickly, skipping all formalities. “And could you also throw in an extra portion of chilli fries?”

“Jughead Jones, you’ve got to stop overeating yourself like this! I don’t want to be to blame once you get all big and fat!” Pop teased him at the other end of the line and Jughead couldn’t stop a small laugh from escaping his lips.

“You know my warlock metabolism would never allow for something like that,” Jughead shook his head, “but don’t worry, I’m not planning on eating it all on my own.”

Jughead quickly bit down at his lip after those words, suddenly feeling a bit anxious about the reaction Pop might have. He had known the man for the better part of the last century and over those years Pop had been many things to him; a son, one that Jughead took care of and introduced to the Shadow World after he got turned into a werewolf; an ally, one that always had his back and on more than one occasion offered the pack’s services to Jughead, no question asked; an advisor, one who even long after being replaced as the alpha of the New York’s pack, was Jughead’s first call with numerous problems; but lastly and probably most importantly; a father figure, one that always made sure to check up on him and offer a shoulder to cry on or a complimentary milkshake, especially in the last few years. 

“I know you don’t want me to ask, so I won’t, but I’m really happy for you,” Pop said earnestly and Jughead’s heart swelled with happiness. Sometimes, he really believed that the man had some sort of a sixth sense.

“It’s nothing, stop making a big deal out of it,” Jughead said quickly, his voice dropping a bit lower in a futile attempt to scold Pop and not let Betty hear any of it. But one quick look at the Shadowhunter seated across from him, one with her eyebrows high up and an amused smirk playing on her lips, revealed that he had failed in doing so.

“Alright, alright. I’ll have everything ready for you in ten minutes at the regular spot, alright?” Pop said.

“Thank you,” Jughead released a sigh, happy that the teasing had come to an end. He was about to say goodbye and end the call, but Pop’s voice stopped him.

“But you have to promise me to bring her around sometime soon,” he said, excitement bubbling in his voice.

Jughead’s eyes quickly drifted to Betty, who was still watching him with an amused smile and soft expression and before he could realise what he was saying, he agreed. “I promise, I will,” he said softly, his eyes not dropping from Betty’s even for a second.

“Then I won’t be bothering you any longer. Ten minutes, alright?” Pop repeated once again, before both of them said their goodbyes and ended the call. Jughead quickly sent a small wave of magic towards the timer on his kitchen counter, setting it for the set time before turning his attention to Betty.

“I take it you are close with the owner of your favourite take-out place?” Betty asked teasingly and Jughead couldn’t stop himself from playfully rolling his eyes.

But the annoyance was anything but real and he moved on to answer the question before Betty had a chance to say anything about it. “Yeah, I am. I have known him his entire life; I have helped him adapt to the Shadow World after he got turned and in return, he helped me numerous times by lending me the pack’s services, free of charge. He had always dreamt of opening up his own restaurant, but other things got in the way, so, once he retired from his position, I gave him a small nudge to start.”

“How small of a nduge are we talking?” Betty asked skeptically.

“A restaurant,” Jughead shrugged, “and enough money to get him through the first couple of years.”

Betty’s jaw dropped at that. “You gave him a restaurant? Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Jughead agreed, not understanding fully why it was that shocking. After all, it wasn’t as if he had given him his favourite apartment in Paris or that island in Bali he hadn’t been to in far too long. Just a random restaurant he had owned for way too long and was tired of having to keep an eye on; hell, even it’s location wasn’t that good…

“Wasn’t that a bit, too big?” Betty asked, her head dropping to a side. Jughead could feel the uncertainty in her voice, as if she wasn’t sure if she should be asking those questions, if she wasn't crossing a line. 

“Not at all,” Jughead shook his head. “Dear, you’ve got to understand that I’m centuries of years old and over that time, I have acquired lots of things and even more money. But at the end of the day, I don’t really care for any of them - what I care about are my friends. And I would give up everything I own in a blink of an eye if it meant they’d be happy.”

Betty watched him carefully after he finished speaking, her bright green eyes piercing into his so intensely, Jughead was pretty sure she could see right into his soul. And yet, he hadn’t minded; not at all.

That realisation hit him like a ton of bricks - _why didn’t he mind?_ Why didn’t he mind being scanned by the eyes of a Shadowhunter so carefully that he was certain that she could see every part of him? Why didn’t he turn away, in fear that she might discover something she didn’t like?

 _Because Betty wasn’t like that_ , a thought crossed his mind, _Betty would never judge you for simply being yourself._

“I understand that,” Betty smiled softly, snapping Jughead out of his thoughts. “Did you say he retired from his position in the pack? Was he an alpha?”

“For almost half a decade,” Jughead nodded, “honestly, for a long time, I thought nobody could replace him.” He paused for a moment after that, considering if he should share the secret he knew with Betty now, or if perhaps he should wait until the next time he meets with Archie - but then, if he had learnt something in his long life, it was that life really wasn’t that long; at least not for mortals and even more so for Shadowhunters. To hell with secrets. “But I couldn’t have been happier about Fred proving me wrong,” Jughead added with a small chuckle.

For a moment, he contemplated not looking up to see Betty’s expression, but the temptation was just too much to pass on. Betty’s brow was furrowed and she was looking at Jughead with an unspoken question written in every single one of her features. ”Fred…” Betty started slowly, “as in Fred Andrews?”

Jughead smiled lightly, nodding to confirm Betty’s guess.

“Fred Andrews, as in Archie’s father Fred Andrews?” Betty asked once again, clearly still confused.

“The very same,” Jughead hummed. 

“How- What?” Betty shook her head, a gesture Jughead recognised as an attempt to clear up her thoughts and try to make some sense of the news presented to her.

“He got badly injured by a werewolf during the Uprising, but instead of dying, he ended up turning. He works with the NYPD now and has been in charge of the New York pack for about a decade already,” Jughead explained, “I’m actually quite surprised that nobody from your Institute has ever crossed paths with him.”

“You are surprised by the that Shadowhunters not caring about having good relationships - or any, for that matter - with a wolf pack? Or any of the Downworld’s clans?” Betty asked him with a raised eyebrow. 

The question prompted a laugh from Jughead. “Okay, you’re right,” he admitted, to which Betty snickered.

“Does Archie know?” she asked then, her voice back to regular serious tone.

Jughead shook his head. “He doesn’t. Although I have dropped quite a few hints to him already.”

“You’re going to have to do better than that with him,” Betty laughed, “I love him with my entire heart, but let’s face it - he isn’t the best at picking up on hints.”

“I know. I guess the reason why I hadn’t told him is that Fred is actually a genuinely nice guy who still loves his son even after almost twenty years of no contact and I was afraid that Archie’s reaction might break his heart,” Jughead said, the confession leaving his mouth without him even meaning to. But it was too late to take the words back now, with the truth hanging in the air between them already.

“For what it’s worth - and let me tell you, as Archie’s parabatai, it’s worth a lot - I believe he’d be nothing but ecstatic if you’d told him,” Betty said sincerely.

“I suppose you’re right,” Jughead admitted with a small sigh. 

But before he could say anything more, a loud sound of timer going off interrupted their conversation.

“Prepare yourself for a taste of heaven,” Jughead smirked teasingly before removing a fruit bowl and the few books he left there last time off the kitchen table. 

He didn’t even have to close his eyes to be able to imagine Pop’s restaurant perfectly and with it, the place on the far end of the counter where Pop always left his order. A bit of concentration and one quick snap of his fingers was enough to transfer the three full brown bags from the restaurant to his loft.

The food was still steaming hot, small clouds escaping the crumbled paper, but that didn’t stop Jughead from delving in, quickly unpacking the contents of the bags on the table. The moment all of the amazing smells hit the air, Jughead had realised once again how hungry he was. And so did Betty’s body, her stomach growling loudly.

“I’m sorry for that,” she apologised immediately, “I hadn’t really eaten anything since lunch and the smell got to me.”

“No need to apologise,” Jughead laughed, “please, dive in!”

He pushed a burger along with one portion of fries and a milkshake towards her and keeping the same for himself. After that, he placed the chilli fries in the middle of the table for them to share.

Jughead waited for Betty to take a first bite before indulging himself; he was too curious to see her reaction to risk missing it because he was trying to not get sauce all over his jeans. And the wait is worth it - it took Betty only one bite for a pleased smile to sprawl across her face and her eyes drop closed with satisfaction.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” she mumbled after few seconds, reaching for a chilli fry next. “Pass my thanks to the chef?” she asked quickly.

“How about we go there next time instead of ordering in? I’m certain he’d love to hear your praises in person,” Jughead offered without even stopping to think once about the implications of his words.

Sure, Pop had asked him to bring his friend over sometime and if the teasing tilt in his voice was anything to go by, he clearly considered Jughead’s friend to be a bit more than a friend. However mentioning it to Betty is a whole different thing; a promise of a next time, a promise of what could be described as a date was a dangerous one. But then, he had already offered to take her to Spain tonight and what’s a dinner in the best burger spot in New York compared to that?

“I’m looking forward to it,” Betty said with a small smile, surprising Jughead by easily accepting his proposal for the second time tonight.

They finished the food in silence after that, something Jughead almost never did, and even less often after Jellybean’s death. The silence just started becoming unbearable, too haunting, too heavy. But with Betty sitting across from him, alternating between burger, fries and milkshake, the silence didn’t seem suffocating anymore. No, instead it felt light and uplifting, it felt calming and soothing. It felt right.

Lost in his thoughts, Jughead reached for a chilli fry, but instead ended up bumping his fingers into Betty’s who apparently had craved one as well. The touch was short and fleeting, ending almost as quickly as it started, but yet it still managed to send a shiver down Jughead’s spine and made the magic in his fingertips want to dance around with excitement. And it seemed like he wasn’t the only one who felt it, as a small chuckle escaped Betty’s mouth and for the love of his life, Jughead couldn’t remember hearing a nicer sound in four hundred years.

Something shifted after that and even though neither of them acknowledged it, Jughead was sure Betty was as aware of the air between them growing heavier with every breath, the tension rising with every second.

They finished eating in silence and Jughead made sure to always look before reaching for a new chilli fry, afraid of what might happen if their fingers touched again. Afraid of the spark that might jump, setting the charged air around them aflame.

“A drink?” Jughead offered once they both finished off their food. His voice came out a lot lower than usual, sounding a bit strained and he desperately tried to persuade himself it was due to the remnants of food still stuck in his throat.

“I should probably go,” Betty answered slowly and for some reason, Jughead found a weird comfort in the fact that her voice sounded almost as strained as his.

 _You probably should_ , he wanted to say. “Or you could stay,” he whispered instead, his voice wavering with uncertainty. “Stay?” he asked once again, this time pouring hopefulness into the single word.

Betty’s eyes locked with his and Jughead had to do everything in his power not to get lost in that beautiful green. “Alright,” Betty said softly without breaking their gaze, “one drink.” 

Jughead smiled widely at her answer and reluctantly broke the eye contact to get up, motioning Betty to follow him. They walked to the living room and Jughead quickly looked outside, checking up on the weather, which, to his surprise had improved greatly while they ate. It stopped raining altogether and although there were still quite a few clouds covering the sky, there was a ray of moonlight cast on his balcony.

“How about we take this outside?” Jughead suggested as he approached his drink table, making quick work of mixing few cocktails for them. 

“That sounds nice,” Betty smiled.

Jughead quickly finished with the drinks, opting for something fruity and not too strong, seeing as Betty had enjoyed the piña coladas before. Plus she didn’t really strike him as a big drinker and the last thing he wanted to do was to get her drunk. He picked up the two glasses and headed towards the door, only then realising that opening it with full hands will be a bit of a challenge (magic or not).

Thankfully, Betty realised that as well and she quickly opened it for him, letting both of them out of the heavily charged loft into the cold New York night. Partially, Jughead had suggested going to the balcony because of the tension - however, he didn’t realise that it wasn’t constricted by the apartment walls and rather by them and that no matter how many times the soft breeze would blow between them, the thick air would not move an inch.

He passed one of the glasses to the Betty and then angled his towards it expectantly. She didn’t need more prompting, quickly closing the distance between them, bringing the two glasses together with a soft click.

“To us,” slipped from Jughead’s lips involuntary and he cursed himself for it almost immediately.

But then the corners of Betty’s lips lifted up in a soft smile and Jughead couldn’t stop himself from copying the movement. “To us,” Betty agreed as she retracted the glass away from his and instead brought it up to her lips.

They both sipped on their respective drinks without a word for a few moments, leaning against the balcony’s railing and overlooking the night New York City. 

“Do you know why I came here today?” Betty asked, breaking the silence that had settled amongst them once again. 

Jughead immediately angled his body to face Betty, leaning against the railing with his side instead of chest. But Betty didn’t do the same, she just simply continued looking over the city, her eyes lost in the distance.

“Do you want to tell me?” Jughead asked carefully. He didn’t question her about why she was sitting on his fire escape while it was literally pouring outside for hours waiting for him, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t eating him up. He desperately wanted to know what had happened, what had pushed her to do something that extreme, but then, he knew better than to ask, better than to push.

“My mother…” Betty paused mid-sentence. “Can I actually ask you something first?”

“Sure,” Jughead nodded before taking a sip of his drink.

“Archie told me that you met her while you were looking for me,” she started carefully.

Jughead could see Betty biting her lip out of the corner of his eyes, clearly having trouble with picking the right words to say. “Not the most pleasant encounter, but yes.”

“What- Why didn’t you do anything?” she said finally, the question dropping from her lips like a rock falling off her heart.

But Jughead’s brows furrowed at it. “What do you mean by that?”

Betty sighed. “I don’t know - I guess I just didn’t expect you to react so calmly, after everything she had done. Like, I thought you’d be angrier or something,” she said, stumbling over her own words nervously.

Jughead wanted to reach over, to take her hand into his and press a feathery kiss to its back, one that would tell her that there was no reason to get nervous around him, that she could tell him everything; and he almost did. _Almost_. But he didn’t, stopping his hand mid-air and retracting it back, grasping his glass in both of his palms to busy his restless fingers, preventing them from acting on stupid impulses like that.

“Who said I wasn’t angry?” Jughead asked instead, hoping that Betty hadn’t noticed his momentary lapse.

Betty raised her eyebrow, her face begging for an explanation.

“You can’t even imagine how angry I got, how strongly the rage burned inside my chest, how much of control and self-restraint it took for me not to blast her into the nearest wall,” Jughead said, his voice hoarse as he recalled those emotions.

“Why didn’t you?” Betty asked expectedly, almost as if she would have wished he had done it.

“Because I didn’t need to give them another reason to resent me.”

“Jug-”

Jughead silenced her with one hand wave. “If you are going to say that they don’t, please, just spare yourself the trouble. You know well how you’re taught to think, what you’re taught to think about the likes of me. Demon-blooded monsters, ones that will always give into their evil part and dark impulses. We’re all ticking bombs and the blast is inevitable and unstoppable.” His voice got harsher with every syllable, the words not fueled by his brain anymore, instead by that raging fire that he always tried to stifle out.

Betty tried again. “I wouldn’t have blamed-” 

“Wouldn’t you? Be honest with me - had I done that, blasted your mother into a wall or something like that, what would you have thought? Would you still be able to see the part I inherited from my mother, my humanity or would my father’s demonic heritage overcloud all of it?”

Betty didn’t answer, but her silence spoke volumes. Jughead wanted to laugh, he wanted to scream, he wanted to punch something. But he did neither of those things, instead just curling his fingers around his glass tighter, pressing until his knuckles grew paler and the glass was on the brink of breaking.

“No, I wouldn’t.” Her voice was strong and determined, carried both by the heavy air and the light breeze. “I wouldn’t, because you are neither of those things Jughead. You aren’t your mother’s humanity or your father’s evilness. You aren’t your parents, you are simply you. With all your flaws and mistakes, with all your kindness and love. I could never see you as a shadow of your parents,” Betty said, shaking her head in disbelief. “Why would I hold you accountable for something that is out of your hands? Why would I hold you accountable for something that you don’t hold me for?”

This time, it was Jughead’s turn to fall silent at the cutting power of Betty’s words. He didn’t know what to say - he didn’t know how to explain the fear that the years of racism and oppression of Downworlders carried, the scars that they left on him, ones that probably won’t heal for centuries. And he couldn’t even begin to describe how the Nephilim made sure, time after time, that he knew having demon blood made him nothing but an abomination, a some kind of monster that is bound to give into his darker side. He had to admit, there were times when he considered it - if everybody already sees you like a monster, what’s stopping you from becoming one? But he never did, always finding a positive side, always finding a light in the world that was completely absorbed in shadows.

“You know what, I think I should go,” Betty said, putting her almost untouched drink down.

Jughead longed to stop her; longed to chanel the same desperation and hopefulness he had after dinner, when one single word was enough to make her _stay_. But his throat tightened and stomach twirled, tangled up into knots upon knots and Jughead wasn’t sure which end he should pull to undo the damage, to numb the dull pain.

But not saying anything probably wasn’t the wisest choice either - it prompted a small huff from Betty, a disappointed one and filled with exhaustion.

The sound pushed him to speak, but by the time he opened his mouth, Betty was already talking. “Thank you for the dinner. And the talk.”

“Betty-” Jughead started in an attempt to make her listen, to say all those things that he so desperately wanted to push out, all those things that made his mouth dry and breath fall short.

“I really appreciate it,” Betty said firmly and Jughead didn’t have to think twice about the message behind her tone. 

_You fucked up_. “Any time.”

Betty nodded, the movement of her head barely visible, before turning around and heading back into the apartment and then out of it, leaving Jughead standing alone on the balcony, with the air still charged with unbearable tension and the New York buzzing in the distance, almost as restlessly as Jughead’s mind.

He couldn’t move, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the door that shut behind Betty. He probably would have stayed there like that for hours, if only the glass in his hand hadn’t burst, cracking under the pressure of his fingers. The golden brown liquid mixed with the blood that started pouring out of the cuts on his palm, his flesh burning painfully where the two liquids met.

And yet, the pain seemed like a tender caress compared to the ache in his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love every single one of you so damn much, i hope you know that. 💕 thank you for all of the nice comments and love you've been giving this fic. seriously, you're stars. ✨
> 
> next chapter coming this _thursday!_ ( _shameless self-promo:_ to keep you occupied in the mean time, check out [foolish hearts](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1452949), aka this other thing i'm pouring my words and soul into; there's a second part coming out on tuesday!)


	16. chapter xvi

Betty’s brows furrowed as she studied the patrol schedule for the week - she knew that they were understaffed, but if Jason was having her patrol Downtown on her own, things were probably more serious that he would ever let on. With a frown still on her face and the rota opened on her tablet, she headed towards his office; surely, it must have been a mistake or something like that. You never went on patrol on your own, you always brought a partner to have your back. Going alone was dangerous and _never_ ended well.

She knocked on the heavy door of Jason’s office twice before pushing her shoulder against it and entering the room.

To her surprise, Jason wasn’t alone, Polly and Hermione both keeping him company. The looks on their faces were serious, but their conversation halted before Betty had a chance to hear any of it - still, their expressions told her that it wasn’t a pleasant one.

“Am I interrupting?” she asked carefully, her eyes quickly jumping from one person to another.

Polly was the first one to register her question enough to answer it. “No, never! What’s up?”

Betty gave all of them one more questioning look before pulling up the patrol schedule up and tilting her tablet for Jason to see. “Am I patrolling Downtown on my own tonight?”

Jason’s eyes scanned the screen quickly before he leant back in his chair and nodded.

“Why?” Betty asked. “Is really nobody available?”

“No, I’m sorry,” Jason shook his head. “Between Hiram’s attack during the wedding and then the rescue mission, we’ve lost quite a few men and the reinforcements I have asked for from Riverdale won’t arrive till next week. In the meantime, we’ll simply have to do with what we have.”

“Well, what about cutting on patrols? Surely nothing will go wrong if we send out only four patrols instead of five,” Betty suggested. Everything seemed more logical and safer than Jason’s solution.

“We could, but this way the work gets distributed more and the patrols are easier on you,” Jason retorted right back. “And anyways, if I remember correctly you’ve got only what? Two places to check out? It’ll be done and over before midnight rolls around.”

That was true - the plan for her patrol was really short. And the spots weren’t even that far from each other, she could probably not only be done before midnight, but maybe even before ten. She couldn’t remember the last time her patrol was so short, the last time she didn’t come back only when the sky had already started playing with dozens of colours and the city streets were slowly filling up with hurrying mundanes.

“You know I wouldn’t have sent you if it wasn’t necessary, but none of the other groups will be patrolling even remotely closely and it would make no sense for them to make the track downtown for just those two locations,” Jason added.

Betty sighed; he had a point. “I suppose you’re right,” she hummed. “Just wanted to make sure, that’s all. I’ll leave you to whatever I interrupted now.”

Jason dismissed her with a small smile, one that she copied before heading out of the office. Just as she was closing the door behind her, she heard Polly start speaking. “Next time, we’ve got to meet somewhere nobody will-”

The rest of her sentence was muffled by the door shutting with a loud thud and then by the thick wood. Betty’s senses tingled at that, a part of her yearning to activate a hearing rune and press her ear against the wall in an attempt to make out the rest of the conversation, but that part was quickly overcome with another one, a more sensible one. So, she just shook her head, throwing the short snippet of a sentence out of it as headed towards the back of the Institute, hoping to find Archie or Cheryl and lure them into the training room for a session before she’d have to leave for patrol later.

She wondered around the Institute’s corridors, letting her mind run freely. And without any prompting, her thoughts found their way to Jughead, settling on their conversation from the last night and leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. 

She shouldn’t have stormed out on him. She understood why he got angry, she understood what he thought she couldn’t. But he didn’t trust her to do so; he didn’t believe in her enough and it stung. So if nothing else, that on its own gave her every right to leave.

Especially since she could barely breathe in his presence, her throat drying out every time their eyes met, her stomach filling up with butterflies with every light touch. Jughead made her head spin in ways she couldn’t even begin to comprehend. In ways she wasn’t sure she wanted to comprehend; in ways she wasn’t sure she was allowed to comprehend.

_And you threw all of that away for some warlock._

Betty shut her eyes, squeezing them tightly together, hoping that maybe the darkness would make her mind turn off, to banish the memory of her mother’s scolding voice. But nothing like that happened, no, instead, the voice grew louder and the guilt stronger.

She was a Shadowhunter, for _angel’s sake_ , what was she thinking? She was born to follow rules, she was raised to fight, she was taught to fall into a line. Her life wasn’t supposed to be a fairytale or one of those romantic movies that Cheryl dragged her to see in a mundane cinema. There was no happy ending waiting for her, no star-crossed romance or a lover who’d sacrifice everything for her. None of that could ever be her life - and she didn’t want that to be her life.

All she ever wanted was to be good, to do good. To make something of herself, to do right by family’s name.

But how was she supposed to do that when the Cooper name already had been tarnished and stained by her mother’s sins? And anyways, what would be good and noble about allowing herself to fall for a warlock?

She hadn’t heard of any Shadowhunters who were brave enough to make such a decision, to put their feelings above their careers and common sense. There surely were some, but Betty was almost certain that none of those stories painted their decision as a wise one. Following their hearts wasn’t a privilege Nephilim were usually allowed to indulge themselves in, often times having to marry and bear children to fulfill their duty to continue their family line, to create more soldiers and warriors before they ultimately pass away in the line of duty.

There was something deeply saddening about that being everything there was to life, but when that’s all you are raised to expect, you just go with it. 

But then, nobody could have ever prepared Betty for meeting Jughead; nobody could have predicted the havoc that he would cause to those perfectly crafted plans, tearing them apart slowly, piece by piece. She wasn’t even sure when that happened, when did she give him so much power over herself? When did she allow him to creep into her mind and heart and just simply crumble up all of her plans and throw them out without a bit of care?

Was it because of the way he listened to her when she talked, taking in every single word as if they were the air he breathed? Or was it because of the kind tone of his voice, whispering hopeful promises and sweet reassurances? Or was it because of his soft caresses, when his fingers barely glazed over her skin, and yet they managed to send thousands of sparkles down her body?

Why was this happening, why was it happening with somebody it shouldn’t, somebody it couldn’t?

Why couldn’t she had found a nice Shadowhunter boy, perhaps one of those in Riverdale that her mother had mentioned and fall in love with them like any other proper soldier would have done?

Why couldn’t she had acted up on her feelings for Archie all those years ago, standing her ground and not going through the parabatai ceremony? Would they be together now or would she had lost him years and years ago?

Why couldn’t she be the perfect Shadowhunter her mother so desperately wanted her, why couldn’t she be at least a _normal_ one?

Why couldn’t she do anything about what was happening, why was she confined to the front row seats of the tragedy that was her life?

Why couldn’t she stop herself from falling?

“Betty?” a voice followed by a light touch on her shoulder brought her back to reality. She shook her head in an attempt to rid herself of those dark thoughts before blinking a few times at the person in front of her until the dark hair and worried smile came into focus.

“Veronica,” Betty said, the word barely distinguishable from an exhale.

“Are you alright? I’ve said your name a few times before you noticed me,” Veronica said. Betty felt Veronica’s intense gaze digging into her body, as if it was trying to uncover Betty’s deepest secrets, as if it was trying to see straight into Betty’s soul.

But Betty knew better than to let anyone do that, she had spent years building and fortifying her walls, putting on a carefully-crafted facade of perfection.

“Just thinking about tonight’s patrol,” Betty offered with a small smile, the lie slipping off her tongue with practised ease.

“Oh, I actually wanted to apologise about that,” Veronica said quickly.

Betty’s eyebrow shot up in confusion. “Apologise about what?”

“I was supposed to patrol with you, but ever since we got my mom back, she’s been doing her best to make life more normal to me, so we’re trying to have dinner together every Wednesday like we used to,” Veronica explained.

“Oh, it’s alright,” Betty shook her head quickly, hoping that her voice would come off as reassuring as she wanted it. There was no reason to put any guilt on Veronica for ditching their patrol, after all, her mother had been kidnapped for days and she just got her back. Who would Betty be to stand in the way of their time together? And what if Veronica had been kind of shitty friend ever since all of that stuff with Hiram had gone down? They all had their own problems and ways of coping, Betty definitely wasn’t perfect either.

“Really? Because if you want, I can reschedule it. Although my mom was so excited about and I’d hate to let her down -”

“Don’t worry Veronica,” Betty stopped the girl from speaking before she could spiral deeper.

Veronica smiled lightly at her. “You’re the best.”

Betty just scoffed at her, shrugging at her words nonchalantly. She was the furthest thing from _the best_ \- but how could she say no to her friends? How could she demand that they’d do the same sacrifices for her as she’d do for them without a blink of an eye?

“I have to start getting ready, but I’ll see you around?” Betty said, excusing herself from the conversation.

Veronica nodded. “Yeah. Be careful tonight, alright?” There was a genuine care in both her expression and voice, one that almost made Betty forget that a part of her was mad at her friend. 

“Always,” Betty hummed before patting her few times on a shoulder and walking away.

***

Betty left the Institute fully geared up and on her own a few hours later, just as the sun finished setting over the busy city. If she was lucky, she’d be back in a few hours - that is, if the both locations turn out to be as empty as Jason expects them to be according the reports attached to her patrol document.

The air was cold, biting at Betty’s cheeks as she walked swiftly through the streets of the city, still heaving with dozens of hurrying people. It was exactly in times like these that she was more thankful for the glamour rune than ever. Being able to pass through the crowds, literally disappear amongst the people was exactly what she needed.

She constantly felt eyes watching her back at the Institute, scrutinising her every step and move. Be it Jason or the Clave envoys that still refused to leave, deciding to stick around and keep both her and Veronica under microscope (or just mainly Veronica, as Betty had learnt a long time ago all of the best ways to almost literally blend in with the brick walls and disappear from the prying eyes), the air in the Institute felt suffocating in the worst ways ever. And with her own emotions raging inside her like a wildfire, the cold church was the last place she wanted to be in.

Not that a busy street lit by one too many neon signs was any better; not that the secluded dark alley she just turned onto was any better either.

Her heart longed to be somewhere completely different, somewhere where the scent of burnt sugar and lavender lingered in the air, somewhere where wind seemed to create soft music everywhere around her, somewhere from where New York City looked small enough to fit into her palm and that maybe if she squeezed her fist just tightly enough, it’d turn to dust along with all of her problems.

Her heart longed to go there, to be back on that balcony where time seemed to cease existing and for once in her life, her heart was allowed to call the shots instead of her mind.

Who knew what could have happened had she stayed a bit longer, had she not given into fear, had she not over-thought the situation. Had she not started thinking about consequences and ran away at the first opportunity that presented itself to her.

A phone rang in her pocket and snapped her out of her thoughts. Betty quickly pulled it out and silenced it (because let’s be honest, what’s the point of using glamour if you don’t silence your phone?), before checking the caller ID.

_Is this the universe giving her some sort of sign?_

She answered it without hesitation. “Jughead.”

“Hey,” Jughead said softly from the other side. “I wasn’t sure you’d pick up.”

 _Of course I would_. “What’s up?” she asked instead.

“I was wondering if you had a moment to talk? I wanted to explain. And apologise,” Jughead said slowly, forgoing his usual quick rambling.

Betty bit into her lip, stopping the small smile that started spreading on her lips. “I’m patrolling but I should be done in an hour or so. I can come over afterwards?”

“Who are you with?” Jughead asked instead of agreeing to her offer.

“Just me tonight,” Betty shook her head.

“Alone? That’s not very safe, dear.”

Betty’s stomach fluttered at the last word. “What else can I do? We’re understaffed and somebody needs to-”

“Where are you right now?” Jughead asked, interrupting her explanation.

“Why?”

“You aren’t patrolling all alone when there’s a perfectly suitable partner available,” Jughead offered. “So, where are you?”

It took a second for Betty to realise what he meant by that. “Oh! You want to join me?”

“Yeah,” Jughead hummed.

“Are you sure? It can get pretty nasty,” Betty asked carefully.

Jughead laughed lightly. “All the more reason for me to keep you company.”

Betty considered his proposal for a few seconds - it would certainly be better to have somebody to keep her company, somebody to watch her back, even on a short patrol like tonight. And with that company being Jughead…

She hadn’t even realised she had blabbered her exact location into the phone, at least not until a swirling golden portal had opened up next to her and Jughead stepped out of it.

“Hey,” he greeted her with a soft smile and for a second, Betty forgot how to speak. As always, there was something magical about him - and it didn’t have anything to do with the residual sparks that still shone around his fingers or with the energy that flowed through his veins, constantly buzzing underneath his skin.

Betty gulped, forcing her eyes away from the man in front of her and throat to form an answer. “Hey. You didn’t have to come.”

“Nonsense,” Jughead shook his head immediately. “It’s not safe to be out here all alone, of course I had to come.”

Betty smiled at the honesty of his words softly, ignoring the beat that her heart missed.

“Well, lead the way,” he said, motioning her to start walking.

And she did, without any arguing or thinking twice. She let herself be completely taken over by him, enamoured simply by his presence. He could make her lose her breath with one sway of his hands, he could make her heartbeat fasten with a couple of words, he could make her stomach flip and clench with a simple touch. And _heaven_ , if it wasn’t the most terrifying and yet exciting thing ever.

“I wanted to apologise,” Jughead said after they walked a few blocks in silence.

Betty’s head dropped to a side, but she didn’t look away from the road in front of her to him. “I’m listening.”

“I overreacted yesterday,” he started slowly. “I wish there was a way to explain what centuries of oppression and hatred do to you, but there simply isn’t one. You might think you understand, but I can assure you that it’s ten times worse than whatever you can imagine. There were times, times that dragged on for decades, where my existence on its own was considered a sin, a crime. Where I, along with everybody that I loved and cared for, were hunted like animals and our marks collected like trophies.”

“You know that times have changed,” Betty whispered, her voice soothing. 

“Have they? Because Hiram Lodge and his Gargoyles still run around and murder innocent Downworlders in cold blood without having to face a single consequence. Because the people who did the same thing two decades ago still hold the most important positions in the Clave, never punished for their crimes. Because even now I feel fear like no other every time I have to set foot in the Institute, where I know that the only thing stopping some people from jumping at my throat is that they don’t want to get their blades stained by my demonic blood.”

Betty wasn’t sure what to say - there was no point in offering pity, knowing whatever she might say, however much compassion she might pour into her words, it still would not be enough. Agreeing didn’t seem like the best option either, no matter how much truth Jughead’s raw words carried, a part of her didn’t want to accept them. A part that knew all too well that she had done nothing to change the situation, a part that screamed _you’re to blame just as much as the next person._

Betty sighed, stopping in her tracks and placing her hand on Jughead’s shoulder, making him stop next to her. “Look, I probably won’t ever understand what all of that feels like, but that won’t stop me from trying. You’ve lived long enough to learn not to trust Nephilim and I can see why. But I’m _not_ like that - and I’m not the only one. I’m not going to ask you to change and become best friends with everybody overnight, I just want you to know and understand that I’m here. And no matter how hard you’re going to push me away and shut me out, I’m not going anywhere.”

“You say that now, but still, you ran out yesterday,” Jughead said.

 _I thought I could trust you unconditionally and tell you everything, I thought your offer to talk if things got hard and heavy came judgement-free. I thought you knew I wasn’t like the rest, that I could never look at you and see anything but you and your scarred, but still shining, soul._ “I did,” Betty nodded. “And I shouldn’t have had. I should have stayed until we could talk without throwing unnecessarily harsh words around.”

Jughead stayed silent for a few seconds before he made up his mind on what to say. “I’m sorry for that. For not believing you’d see me as somebody different than just my father’s son. For implying that you were just another soldier without a mind of your own, even after you’ve proven to be the exact opposite time after time.”

“Apology accepted,” Betty said with a small smile, one that lasted barely a few seconds before her lips formed a firm thin line. “And I’m sorry for walking out. Running away from all of that was an easy solution but it didn’t solve anything.”

“Apology accepted,” Jughead hummed sincerely, his words mirroring Betty’s. He gave her a soft smile, one that was full of gratefulness and unspoken care and appreciation, one that made Betty weak in her knees.

She gulped emptily and averted her gaze quickly. “This is the place, by the way,” she said, pointing her arm towards an old warehouse a few yards down.

Jughead’s eyes twinkled with excitement. “Alright, so, what’s the plan, boss?” 

“Boss?” Betty chuckled as she took out her stele to finish drawing the runes she prepared back at the Institute and to reactivate the ones that got drained by the time they arrived at the destination.

“Yeah - I have never been on a patrol, I have no idea what we’re doing. You’ve got to talk me through it,” Jughead shrugged.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing you won’t be able to handle,” Betty said with a teasing tilt to her voice, one that made Jughead roll his eyes. “Our sensors picked up some unusual activity here, so we’re going to check it out, but it’s probably nothing as it was just a small blip on the radar.”

“I can check for any signs of life from here if you want,” Jughead offered.

“That would be nice,” Betty said. It would save them plenty of time if they didn’t need to go through the entire warehouse, checking every room and corner for the demons lurking in the shadows.

Jughead’s eyes fell closed and along with small humming falling from his lips that Betty thought to be in latin, golden light started pooling in his palms and shining through his fingers, the darkness of the night allowing long rays of light to make their way through the air. As always, Betty felt herself quickly losing her focus on the reality, unable to tear her eyes away from the sheer power that radiated off the warlock standing next to her. Even as the light slowly left his hands and travelled towards the warehouse in a form of sparkling cloud and the smell of burnt sugar filled the air around them so thickly that she could almost feel its taste on her tongue, she still found herself completely stunned by the vision that was Jughead commanding his magic.

“The front part is empty, but there were these huge water tanks in the middle, blocking the signal,” Jughead said, his voice snapping Betty from her enchanted gaze.

She nodded thankfully. “I guess we’ll have to do that part the old-fashioned way.”

Jughead snapped his fingers and the door to the warehouse opened with an ear-irritating creak. 

Betty rolled her eyes. “Show-off.”

Jughead chuckled lightly. “Ladies first,” he said as he stepped out of the way to let Betty enter into the shadows of the warehouse first.

She quickly drew her weapon, the familiar energy of seraph blade coming to life underneath her palms immediately. The blade’s soft blue glow accompanied by the magic’s warm golden coming off from Jughead’s palms provided just enough light for them to get through the first part of the warehouse with ease. They located the water tanks easily; they would be pretty hard to miss as they took up the majority of the space.

Betty walked slowly, taking her time to examine every bit of the warehouse that her sight could reach, squirming her eyes at the dark corners hidden away underneath blankets of shadows. The seraph blade glowed in her hand lightly, but not enough to help her see with ease. 

Suddenly, a warm feeling of gratefulness overcame her; she wouldn’t want to be alone right now. She might have gone on dozens of missions and patrols on her own before, something that certainly didn’t belong between her wisest or proudest decisions, but there were times when the solitude combined with adrenaline pumping through her veins was all she seeked. However, today was not a day like those; today, she craved a closeness of another human, she craved company and friendship.

“You know, I’m glad you came along,” she heard herself saying, not quite sure when her thoughts stopped being thoughts and turned into audible words. 

Jughead chuckled and Betty could swear that for a second, his magic glowed a bit brighter. “Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” he said teasingly, but a sliver of honesty slipped out in-between his words.

Betty’s stomach curled at it and blood rushed to her cheeks. She shook her head lightly before blinking a few times and refocusing on the task ahead. This was her job; she shouldn’t get distracted so easily.

“And besides, I’ve always wondered what…” Jughead’s voice faded off mid-sentence and with it, Betty’s attention flickered, switching from casually careful to extremely vigilant. “Northern corner,” Jughead whispered.

Betty turned her head slightly, tracing her eyes along the building’s walls until she located the spot that caught Jughead’s attention. And there, barely visible and hidden away in dark, sat a small figure, curled up into a ball as if in an attempt to make himself completely invisible to anybody’s eyes.

Slowly lowering her blade, Betty took a tentative step forward. The person didn’t move, but as she got closer, she noticed the slight tremble in his body and how strongly his arms clenched around his legs.

“Hey,” Betty whispered kindly once she was close enough.

The boy’s head snapped up and the expression on his face made Betty take a step back. His mouth was downturned in an angry growl, a smear of blood dried out on his temple, his brows pushed low on his face, almost completely covering his eyes. But still, Betty could clearly make out the green shine they carried - a werewolf.

There was no time to think - the boy was angry and terrified and that’s not a state you want to encounter a werewolf in, especially not a young one. “Hey, it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you,” Betty said quickly, raising her arms up. She twirled the blade around in her hand and allowed the buzzing energy to die out and soft glow to disperse, before sticking it back into its place in her holster.

Once her hands were weaponless, Betty took a small step towards him, but the boy jerked away at the motion, his small body jumping a few feet away. “It’s alright, don’t worry,” Betty said, doing her best to soothe the boy’s fears.

But it didn’t help as his expression didn’t change, as he continued to watch her with horror in his face. His eyes dragged warily along her whole body, lingering longer on every weapon he encountered and then even longer on every dark rune that littered her pale skin. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what caused his reaction (but it still broke Betty’s heart a bit).

“Hey little guy,” Jughead said kindly, stepping in front of Betty. His hands no longer glowed brightly with dark orange fire, no, instead they were covered in a soft yellow haze now, all inviting and soothing. “My name is Jughead and I’m not going to hurt you, I swear. What’s your name?”

And even though the boy hadn’t relaxed completely nor did the horrified expression disappear from his face, a small gasp of relief left his lips and the green in his eyes subsided, the green rage replaced by a broken brown. “Ricky,” he whispered.

“You’re safe now,” Jughead said. Ricky didn’t flinch away when Jughead tried to approach him, in fact, he outstretched his arms up once he got close enough.

There was no hesitation in Jughead’s movements; he picked the boy up into his arms smoothly and with so much ease, that Betty momentarily wasn’t sure if she was dreaming. Ricky couldn’t have been more than ten years old and there was Jughead, carrying him in his arms as if it was the most mundane thing to him. Betty noticed the faint glow coming off his hand as he rubbed his back; of course that checking his state was the first thing he did. 

A barely audible sob escaped Ricky’s lips and as Jughead instinctively pulled him closer, Betty’s heart plummeted in her chest. _How could somebody be so caring and full of love for a kid he’d just met?_

“Everything is alright,” Jughead whispered soothingly, but his words were followed by more sobbing.

“Nothing is alright,” Ricky spoke up, his voice trembling from the crying.

Jughead rubbed his back gently. “You wanna tell me what has happened?”

More crying followed.

They shouldn’t be doing this, they shouldn’t be asking a clearly very distraught kid for answers and explanations. “Jug, maybe it’s not the best idea-” Betty started.

“My mom told me to run and hide, so I did,” Ricky pushed out.

“You did great,” Jughead hummed, encouragement mixed with softness lacing his voice.

“There were people in our house...” he said, continuing his explanation. His voice trailed off at the end and his eyes skipped to Betty for a second. “Bad people.”

She didn’t need him to say any more, if his tone wasn’t enough of an implication, the way he looked at her on its own would have been. There was something incredibly heartbreaking about a kid holding a death stare like that, about seeing such a young soul strapped off their innocence and filled with nothing but hatred and rage. Betty wanted to scream that it wasn’t her, that she would never lay a finger on an innocent person, that he had no right to judge her based on actions of a group of rogue Shadowhunters; but she couldn’t force the words out of herself, feeling them stuck inside her throat, their sharp edges cutting into her flesh and leaving nothing but bitter taste of blood in her mouth.

Jughead sighed heavily as he pressed the boy closer to his chest. “Nobody is going to hurt you now.”

“But what about my family?” Ricky asked. Deafening silence filled the air around them, the heavy air barely breathable. It stretched for seconds, but to Betty, it felt like hours or even days before somebody spoke up again.

“They’re all dead, aren’t they?” Ricky spoke up again.

Jughead’s breath hitched and his shoulders tensed up - he didn’t want to answer. _But who would?_ “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable, alright?” he asked instead.

Ricky hesitated for a moment before nodding slightly, the movement prompting a small smile to appear on Jughead’s lips.

“I’ll drop him off at Pop’s and I’ll be right back. Wait for me here?” Jughead asked Betty.

“Go ahead,” she nodded and before she could even blink, Jughead had a portal up and walked right into it, leaving her alone in the huge dark warehouse.

And only then, she allowed herself to take a stuttering breath and let the shiver run down her spine. The feeling that had settled in the pit of her stomach was heavy and terrifying, it made her sick and her mind spin. She wanted to do nothing but tremble and tumble down to the floor, to feel the tiny stones that littered the ground dig into her palms and knees, to do something that would move the pain from her heart somewhere, anywhere, else.

What were you supposed to do in situations like these? Betty knew how to fight tens, if not hundreds of kinds of demons, she knew where to punch to break but not kill and vice versa, she knew how to discuss political topics and how to handle a diplomatic negotiation. She’d been taught all of those things - she had spent years in Riverdale’s academy studying all of that in order to become a perfect soldier. And now, all of that knowledge seemed useless. There was nothing she could do to help the broken boy, to make this easier on him. Because no matter what she’d do, he could never see her as anything but a murderer or a liar.

Would her whole life be like this? Would every single Downworlder look at her with the exact same hatred, would all of them shudder at the sight of her? And what about those who’d take one look at her and not see just a random Shadowhunter, but her mother’s daughter? Was there anything she could do to grow over that legacy, to make them all see that not all of them were alike? That some Nephilim were kind and loving and would never in their lives hurt an innocent person, no matter what blood was flowing in their veins?

Why did it feel like an endless loop of hatred and prejudices? 

Shadowhunters getting taught from a young age about the dangers and instability of Downworlders, about how the demon blood makes them prone to act evil and give into their dark impulses. About how one should always be wary when approaching them and never let their guard down, because they will take advantage of even the smallest slip up. But why did nobody teach them that the same was applicable the other way around? Why did nobody warn them that more often than not, the attack will actually come from the supposed _good guys_?

Downworlders hate Nephilim, but had anybody ever stopped to point out that there might be a reason behind that?

Many of them had lived for centuries and from what she had seen, the memories that stuck in the minds of immortals were not always full of sunshine and rainbows. No, clouds and storms resided there as well, hurricanes and tornadoes of heartbreak and pain. To carry a burden like that… One shouldn’t be surprised if it became too much and the pain tipped into hatred and fear. 

And even now, with the Accords in place, laws that were supposed to help the Downworlders by giving them equal rights and protection, Hiram Lodge and his Gargoyles still continue to spread hatred and fear by going on killing sprees and taking lives of innocent Downworlders and none of the Shadowhunters did anything to stop him. 

How could she claim to be blameless, how could she claim to be free of guilt when she just stood by and did nothing to prevent those horrors from happening? How was she any different from his loyal followers, how was she any better?

The answer was rather terrifying in its simplicity. 

_She wasn’t._

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _...and so with this chapter, we transition into the endgame, the last act almost upon us (don't worry though, it's still going to take quite a few chapters)_
> 
> thank you for all of the nice comments and love you've left underneath the last chapter, it never fails to make me smile. you're all stars and i'm so grateful for you. 💕 and as always, special thanks to maggie for putting her time and love into betaing. 
> 
> see you on tuesday! 💕


	17. chapter xvii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know that it technically is already wednesday, but i literally had classes and other commitments the entire day and we went to hozier's concert tonight (which was really _something,_ man, i don't think i'll ever recover)
> 
> anyways, enjoy this update. love y'all!
> 
> lav xx

When Jughead returned ten minutes later, his mood was considerably more somber than it had been before he portalled away from the warehouse with the small Ricky in his arms. A tension had settled into his shoulders and a frown took over his face. He didn’t say anything, but the silence felt way too heavy for Betty, especially since it gave opportunity for her dark thoughts to come out once again, to haunt her by showing her the terrifying heavy truths.

“Is he going to be okay?” Betty asked softly once they started heading to their second location.

“Wolves in Pop’s recognised him, so he’s safe,” Jughead said and it hadn’t escaped Betty’s attention how it wasn’t actually an answer for the question she placed. Although in a way, the evasion was an answer on its own.

“They also promised to go and check out his home,” Jughead continued. 

Betty nodded lightly and kicked into a rock on the ground absentmindedly. The guilt started to sneak up on her again, no matter how much she tried to distract herself by focusing on the shuffle of her feet or the cold night breeze that sneaked underneath her jacket and chilled her to a bone, nothing was working.

She took a deep breath, turning the question around on her tongue. “Is there anything we can do?” she asked with an exhale.

“Unless we magically figure out a way to stop Hiram Lodge once and for good, I’m afraid there’s very little to help.”

“I could get out more patrols, make sure that we cover as many Downworlders’ homes as possible. I could also-”

“No, you couldn’t,” Jughead interrupted her. “Do you know how many Downworlders are there in New York?”

Betty didn’t answer, just shook her head.

“Too many to count,” Jughead shrugged. “But the important thing is that they aren’t all your responsibility.”

“But if I won’t look after them, who else will? Who will protect them from being murdered by Gargoyles in their own homes? Who will do something, anything?” Her voice is so desperate that she barely recognised it, the words pleading.

“You can’t protect all of them,” Jughead shook his head. He stopped in Betty’s way, placing his hands gently on both of her shoulders before looking earnestly in her eyes. “No matter what you or anybody else does, Gargoyles will still find a way to slip through our protections and bring along destruction and death.”

Betty’s brows furrow slightly at the implications of his words. “How many attacks have there been?” she asked.

Jughead dropped his hands from her shoulders and with them also his gaze. He took a step away from her, as if he hoped that he’d be able to escape her question by creating a distance between the two of them.

“Jughead,” Betty said, well-aware her voice was beyond pleading and vulnerable, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“There’s been a new incident almost every second day,” Jughead admitted with a sigh.

Betty stomach clenched at his words and her heart threatened to leap out of her throat. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

“Because protecting the entire Downworld isn’t your job, Betty.”

“It isn’t yours either,” Betty frowned. 

Standing a few feet in front of her, she had a chance to look at him properly. In the dark alley, lit only by a faint neon light of a small Chinese restaurant a few meters down, he stood out more than usual, his skin seamingly shining with golden glow. But still, the dark circles underneath his eyes and the worry etched into every cell of his skin were too easily noticeable. Betty knew all the signs of a person tired from carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders, from blaming themselves for things that were out of their control, from wishing there was more they could do - she stared into the eyes of that person every day in the mirror.

Betty was about to walk up to Jughead and grasp him in the same way he did to her before, way that would force him to look her in the eyes and listen as she told him that if she wasn’t allowed to blame herself, than neither was he, when her eyes noticed a shadow of a person covered by the alleyway’s darkness hovering a bit too close to Jughead body. Her mind immediately raised warning flags, so she blinked a couple of times before squirming her eyes at the darkness, trying to see if her mind was just simply playing tricks on her or if there was a reason for the hairs to stand upright at the back of her neck.

But by the time Betty’s eyes refocused and noticed the familiar faint glow of a seraph blade, it was too late already and the person had Jughead in his grasp, with the blade pushed against his neck.

“Lovely to see you again, Elizabeth,” Reginald Mantle said, his voice low and slick, sending shivers down Betty’s spine immediately.

“Can’t say the same,” she quickly bit down. Her eyes slowly moved from Reginald’s to Jughead and she just hoped that the look she gave him was calming, because even though he didn’t look scared, Betty was pretty sure he wasn’t not either. After all, having a Gargoyle hold a blade against your neck isn’t the most convenient position.

“Hiram is really disappointed that you still hadn’t reached out to him, you know,” Reginald said slowly and surely with an arrogant smirk on his face, but Betty couldn’t make herself look at him, instead keeping her eyes fixed on Jughead’s. She could see how his pupils got blown up with a surprise and question formed on his lips, one that he knew better than to voice.

“I considered his proposal carefully, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline,” Betty said. The truth was, that she hadn’t thought about it at all; she didn’t even have to hear Hiram’s plan to know she wanted to have nothing to do with it. The part of a not-acting bystander was already way too much for her to handle.

“Maybe you could reconsider?” Reginald asked, “you know, given the circumstances…” Even without moving her eyes from Jughead’s now shocked expression, she could see how he flicked his wrist, the blade turning slightly in his hand and pushing against Jughead’s throat harder.

_ A plan would be really nice, like right now. _

“Alright, alright, let’s all calm down,” Betty said, raising her hands slightly. “Let’s talk this out like adults.”

Reginald snickered at her words, but did nothing to move his blade, which Betty considered as a win. If only she could find a way to make him remove it, it would allow Jughead to use his magic without fear of making a wrong move that would slit his throat open...

“You know, it’d be much easier to think if you’d put that blade away,” Betty suggested slowly, pointing her hand slightly towards where the weapon was pressed against Jughead’s throat. 

“And give him opportunity to use magic and give you enough time to pull out one of those knives? I don’t think so,” Reginald shook his head.

“Well, I’m not reconsidering anything unless you remove that blade from his throat,” Betty said resolutely.

But the smirk that appeared on Reginald’s face couldn’t certainly mean anything good. “I thought you’d suggest that, let me make your wish come true. It’ll be good riddance.”

The fear that accompanied the realisation of meaning behind Mantle’s words hit Betty hard, knocking the breath out of her lungs, filling her ears with high-pitched buzzing and making the world spin out of control around her, before coming to a halt, everything ceasing. She wanted to scream at him to stop, she wanted to shout from desperation, but no sound left her mouth. So she opted for the more violent and riskier option; she pulled out a knife from her holster and threw it his way without a second thought.

But it didn’t fly far.

No, much to her surprise, it stopped in the air, mere inches away from the spot where it left her hand. She eyed it suspiciously for a brief second and then blinked a few times in confusion, not understanding what has just happened. 

But no matter how much the knife seemingly frozen in time intrigued her, there was a more pressing matter she needed to attend to. 

Betty’s eyes jumped to where Jughead and Reginald stood, the seraph blade pressed deathly close to Jug’s throat. There were golden sparks flying off the tips of his fingers, probably in an attempt to launch some sort of counterattack, but the position they were in gave every advantage to Mantle, leaving Jughead basically unable to do anything without compromising his own safety. But now, both of them seemed frozen in the position, same as the knife.

Tentatively, Betty took a slow step forward, carefully testing the grounds. But when nothing had changed, the second step she took was a lot less careful and by the third one, she was practically running. 

Once she reached the two of them, she didn’t hesitate; she quickly pried the blade from Reginald’s hand, the action seamingly not affecting him at all. Suddenly, Betty was overcome with a huge urge for revenge. 

Nobody threatens to hurt Jughead on her watch.

She pulled out another knife from her holster and spun it around her finger before grasping the handle in her palm and sinking the short blade into Reginald’s thigh.

The rush of adrenaline that washed over her with that action almost knocked her out of her balance, followed by similar sensations as she felt just seconds ago, full of world spinning and high-pitched sounds ringing through her ears. 

And with that, everything decided to start moving once again.

A lot of things happened at once; the magic left Jughead’s palms and combined with the energy from Reginald’s empty hand swinging in front of his throat, it sent the Gargoyle stumbling back and falling on the ground (the knife still stuck in his thigh probably also didn’t really help with his balance). A faint sound of metal hitting a wall followed right after and it dawned on Betty that it was the sound of the first knife ending its flight by hitting a wall behind the two of them. 

“Fuck… What?” Reginald was first to say something, snapping both Betty and Jughead from their shocked hazes, Betty from whatever the  _ heaven _ just went down and Jughead from just barely escaping death.

He seemed to come to his senses sooner than Betty, because before she knew what was happening, a stream of golden sparks was already flying around Reginald, forming tight ropes around his body.

“Wait! Don’t kill him,” Betty said quickly, finally snapping from confusion to a rational thought.

“Give me one good reason,” Jughead barked out harshly, the golden ropes tightening around Mantle’s body with his words.

“He’s Hiram’s right hand, he’s more use to us alive than that,” Betty said quickly. She understood Jughead’s anger and if it was up to her, as his friend to make that decision, she would have let him do it without a second thought. But sadly, the decision needed to be made by the soldier part of her and that one knew better than to kill an important hostage. “Please,” Betty added, placing her hand gently against Jughead’s arm, hoping that the touch would calm him down.

He released a deep sigh and focused the sparkling ropes to one hand, opening up a portal with the second and pushing Reginald through it as soon as it was ready. With one quick hand sweep he closed the portal, removing any proof of magic from the dark alley except for few leftover sparks still tumbling on the ground and the smell of burnt sugar that lingered in the air.

Silence took over the alley immediately, one so grave that Betty could hear both of their hearts beating irregularly.

“Where did you send him?” Betty asked with a trembling voice, desperate to get rid of the silence. 

“A holding cell in one of my places,” Jughead answered. His voice sounded dry and terrified and Betty was quickly overcome with an urge to somehow soothe the fear away. “What- what happened?”

“I’m not completely sure,” Betty offered slowly.

“Because one moment he had a blade pressed against my throat and I was sure he was just seconds away from slitting it and you were standing over there -“ he said, motioning his hand towards the place where down the alley, “- and then the next, he was on the ground and you were by my side.”

“I don’t know,” Betty shook her head lightly, her thoughts still slightly covered in confused haze. “I saw the blade and this overwhelming fear just overcame me and with it everything spun out of control until it didn’t.”

_ Until it didn’t spin nor move anymore, everything around her frozen in time. _

“Did you - did you do it?” Jughead asked slowly.

_ Did she? _

“I - maybe?” Betty offered. “Everything around me just froze and I was the only one who could move; I took the blade out of his hand without affecting him in any way. It was only once I decided to hurt him that the world seemed to get back on track.”

Jughead looked at her carefully, scanning her whole body as if he was trying to see if something about her felt new or different. “May I?” Jughead asked carefully, lifting his hand up as handful of sparks flew off his fingers.

Betty nodded wordlessly, closing her eyes as she felt the first few warm sparks hitting her. They tingled along her skin, brushing over her tense muscles and slowly sinking into her skin, finding their way into her bloodstream. The sensation of magic flowing through her filled her quickly with a calming heat, one she surrendered to without a second thought.

“I think,” she started slowly while Jughead’s investigative magic poured into her in regular intervals, “I think I may have done it before. Just never to this extent.”

“When?” Jughead prompted her to explain.

“When you came to rescue me… After I had an argument with my mother,” Betty explained slowly, recalling all of the times similar feelings overcame her. They were always prompted by a huge emotional reaction from her and she didn’t give them much thought at the moment; but now, everything about it seemed to fall into place.

Betty’s eyes snapped open after that, quickly finding Jughead’s. The shocked expression that they held came as no surprise to her, as she was sure it mirrored her own.

“You might be right,” Jughead hummed slowly. His hands were still moving in the air, hovering over Betty’s body, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention to it anymore. “Is it possible that this is the effect of the Tears?”

“I mean, what else could it be?” Betty asked. “I sure as heaven wasn’t able to do that before.”

Jughead just nodded and slowly let his hands drop to the sides of his body, pulling the magic out of her with them. “Well, whatever it is, there’s nothing wrong with you, or at least nothing that my magic could pick up on. You’re in a top shape, both physically and mentally.”

Betty wanted to roll her eyes and say that she feels anything but that, but the kind and reassuring look Jughead gave her stopped her from doing that, instead, encouraging her to give him an appreciative smile. 

“You know, when we discovered Veronica’s powers, she was so much cooler both about having them and controlling them,” Betty said.

Jughead’s eyebrow shot up. “You’ve already discovered her powers?”

“Yeah, she drew this rune on her palm that shot sunlight,” Betty explained. “She’s all excited about it, she spends all of her free time with her mom, trying to figure out more about it.”

“That’s interesting,” Jughead nodded, his voice distant as got lost in his thoughts. “I wonder why the Tears affected you in different ways… I’ll have to discuss it with Pea, maybe he’ll have some ideas.”

The words spiked fear in Betty, making her heartbeat fasten and stomach clench. “Jug?” she asked carefully.

“Yeah?”

“Can we keep it just between us? For now, at least,” she asked him, hoping that he would accept her pleas.

“Sure, but can I ask why?” Jughead asked back immediately.

Betty took a deep breath before answering, one that was more an opportunity for her to talk herself out of coming clean to him. She hadn’t told anybody about it, in fact, she pushed the memory of the words that Hiram told her right before injecting her with the Tears so far away in her mind, that she almost completely forgot about it. Except now, with Mantle having mentioned that Hiram was really expecting to hear from her and Jughead discovering her powers, the fear of Hiram’s words stopped being just words and becoming reality had caught up to her.

“Can we go to your place?” Betty asked. She didn’t need to tell him why, both of them understanding the question that lingered unsaid in the air. Wordlessly, Jughead snapped open a portal and led them both through it.

The familiar warmth and smells embraced her immediately, working as a soothing balm on her nerves. Jughead, probably sensing the anxiety coming off her, headed towards his drink table, fixing them two drinks in next to no time.

“Balcony?” Jughead suggested and Betty only nodded, accepting the heavy glass filled with dark liquid gratefully.

She gave the glass in her hand one look before lifting it up to her lips and downing a half of it in one go. The burn travelled down her throat and although it made her want to curl up and shut down, she pushed through, waiting until the sting passed and was replaced by numbness and emptiness.

She quickly looked at Jughead, seeing his expectant eyes already on her. “Go on, ask,” she slightly nodded her head forward, prompting him speak.

“Why was Hiram expecting to hear from you?” Jughead asked slowly, rolling his words carefully on his tongue before letting them leave the safety of his mouth.

Betty took a deep breath, mentally steeling herself before revealing the truth. “Haven’t you wondered why he left me on that ship?” she said instead.

“I have,” Jughead nodded slowly.

“Why haven’t you asked me about it then?”

“I didn’t suppose you knew, but I guess I was wrong,” Jughead said, “so why did he?”

“He told me right before doing -“ Betty motioned with her hand around, failing to find words to describe it, “- this. He told me that once my powers start manifesting, everybody will think of me as a monster, will slowly grow to fear me and resent me. That nobody will ever accept me for who I am -“

“- Nobody except for him,” Jughead said, clearly seeing where Betty was heading and all she could do was nod.

“He wants me to find him once that happens,” Betty finished.

Jughead didn’t say anything, instead he slowly dragged his gaze away from her and towards the city. He looked every bit as powerful as the High Warlock should, but at the same time, he looked very vulnerable and almost human. 

“Well, would you mind hearing a piece of my mind?” Jughead said without moving his gaze away.

“Please,” Betty prompted him to speak.

“This doesn’t change anything about you - you’re still the same person who called me out for my bullshit by throwing her knives inches from my head, you’re still the same person who called me to save her  _ parabatai _ from bleeding out even though you barely knew me. You’re still the same kind, smart and strong Shadowhunter I had the pleasure of meeting and this-“ Jughead said as he slowly turned to face her, his hands copying motions Betty did just moments ago, “- this doesn't change anything about it, certainly not to me. And I know I can’t speak for the rest of your friends, but I’m sure you’d never become a monster in their eyes.”

Betty’s heart swelled at his words, stomach filling up with dozens of butterflies and mind easing. “Thank you,” she gulped silently, the words barely leaving her mouth. Be it any other person on the balcony, she’d be sure that they would have missed them; but Jughead’s understanding smile followed by a small nod was all confirmation of hearing she needed.

“And by the way, I still stand by what I said after we got you back,” Jughead said, “I’m here for you. Whatever you need to do to deal with all of this, I can help. You don’t need to go through this alone.”

He reached out to her, his hand slowly curling around her fingers that held the heavy glass. The touch felt comforting and soothing in the best way possible and along with the kind words, Betty ended up craving more; a lot more.

What would it feel like, to give into that want? To step closer, to have a taste of what she so desperately dreamt about? Would her chest fill up by a joy and pure happiness or would a guilt similar to the one she felt just minutes prior spread through it and her mother’s scolding voice ring through her ears on repeat?

Jughead’s words reminded her of yesterday, when she took him on that exact offer. When they ended up standing exactly like this, overlooking New York covered by darkness, just a whisper away from sharing hidden truths and deepest secrets.

“You know, I never told you why I came here yesterday,” Betty started slowly. She twirled with her glass, running her nails along its edge.

“You hadn’t,” Jughead hummed in agreement. He clearly wasn’t going to push her for answers, not after everything that has happened, but there was a certain degree of interest in his voice he couldn’t hide.

“My mother told me she loves me,” Betty said simply, “or at least I think she did.”

***

To say that Jughead had expected to hear anything but that was an understatement. For a second, he considered the possibility that he might have misheard or that he was dreaming this whole thing up; but no, Betty was real and standing next to him with her voice as clear as ever.

“You aren’t sure?” Jughead decided to ask, pretty sure that the other question that crossed his mind wasn’t the smartest one.  _ He never believed Alice Cooper was capable of such emotion _ .

“She told me nobody else was as smart or as talented as me,” Betty said slowly and Jughead’s picked up on the bitterness of her voice almost immediately. “That nobody else made her as proud as I did.”

Jughead’s brows furrowed at that, not quite understanding. Everything that Betty just said went against everything he knew about the woman, it went against logic and common sense. And clearly, Betty picked up on it as well.

“And do you believe her?” Jughead asked slowly, because at the end of the day, whatever Alice said didn’t have to matter, as long as Betty didn’t want it to.

“I want to,” Betty sighed, “you can’t even imagine how desperately I want to. All my life, everything I have done was for her. I have always put her rules and orders first, I have always thought of the consenques my actions will have on the family legacy before doing anything. My entire life, I have seeked her love and appreciation.” Betty had stopped talking, but yet, Jughead didn’t feel comfortable speaking up, sensing she still had more to say.

“I have never been selfish, not once in my life. I’ve always put my job, my duty first, never allowing myself to be reckless like all of my friends did. Never stepping out of line,” Betty continued. “Never allowing myself to think of what I might want first. To follow my heart.”

Betty’s words were heavy and Jughead felt his stomach clenching at them, his lungs contracting and mind slowly starting to spin. He desperately wanted to reach out to her, to cup her face gently and whisper that everything was alright - that she was allowed to follow her heart - but he found himself glued to the spot, unable to move or speak.

“And the one time I actually consider it, the one time I allow myself to wonder about the endless possibilities and dream about doing something for myself, following my heart, she tells me not to do it. Because she cares about me and doesn’t want me  _ to throw everything away for some warlock _ .”

If Jughead hadn’t been listening so carefully, he might have missed the moment Betty’s voice had morphed from her own to one mimicking her mother. But he noticed and to say that there were too many emotions to understand, or even attempt to deal with, would be an understatement. However, Betty didn’t really give him any time or space to focus on them or try to make at least some sense of them. So, he just continued listening to her soft voice, letting his ears be filled by it and the loud thumping of his frantically beating heart.

“Family honour and legacy is something that always came first in my life. Not my wants, not my dreams,” Betty shook her head.

“Not even your own happiness?” Jughead found himself saying, unsure of how or when he found the strength to formulate the words.

“Not even my own happiness,” Betty agreed sorrowly. “Is that bad?”

A surprise flashed through Jughead at Betty’s question. “It’s not good, dear,” Jughead answered with a small laugh, an attempt to lighten up the mood slightly and cut through the heavy tension.

Betty’s head dropped down with an exasperated sigh. She slowly placed the still full glass on the small table by her side and rubbed her hands against her face before turning to face Jughead. “Alright, let’s say I would do it. For once in my life I would be selfish and I’d do this one thing just for me, because there’s a real possibility of it making me happy. How would I then face the consequences of my actions?”

Jughead slowly placed his glass next to Betty’s, giving himself time to think about her question. To some extent, he understood where she was coming from - all her life, she had never really done anything for herself, just out of sheer want. Every decision, every action, everything was thought through carefully, in an attempt to figure out how it will influence her family, her legacy. Jughead understood, throughout his years, he had seen many Shadowhunters facing the exact same struggle. They were simply conditioned to think like that, conditioned to be copies of perfect soldiers and nothing more.

“You face them proudly and fearlessly,” Jughead offered slowly. “You are strong, Betty, you are so strong and brave and determined. And nobody can take that away from you, because that’s who you are, in your heart.”

“But they can take everything else from me - I could lose my job, I could lose my friends and family, I could lose everything,” Betty said, her tone wavering with the desperation of her words.

Jughead took a deep breath in before taking a step forwards. He carefully lifted his hand up and placed it on the nook of Betty’s shoulder, his thumb gently rubbing against the exposed skin of her neck, tracing the black ink of the rune that was peeking out from underneath her collar, a permanent reminder of how fundamentally different the two of them were.

“I know,” Jughead hummed, his eyes springing up to catch Betty’s. “But there are so many things you could gain,” he added slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Choosing to follow your heart is hard, you’re putting yourself out there, vulnerable and unprotected, ready to lose everything in exchange for the possibility of gaining something… Something potentially magical.”

Jughead’s throat contracted after uttering those words, almost as if it wanted to laugh at the choice he used. But thankfully, Betty didn’t find it pathetic or stupid, or at least if she did, she did a great job of hiding it.

“Have you ever done that?” she asked slowly, pausing between the questions. “Risked everything for something that could turn out to be magical?” Another pause. She opened her mouth to continue, but nothing came out. And yet, the unspoken question hung in the air between them, rang in Jughead’s ears as if she screamed it. Even while surrounded by cold fresh air, the silence that followed words felt too heavy, filling up all of their surroundings, almost up to a suffocating point. 

“I’m 400 years old, Betty,” he offered as an explanation, one that made the girl’s eyebrow only shoot up.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Betty shook her head lightly.

Jughead turned away from her piercing gaze for a few seconds, taking a moment to look away, to try to calm his racing mind. But no peace came from overlooking New York; he could feel the energy of the city pulsating and flowing, beating to the rhythm of his heart.

So, he slowly dragged his eyes back to meet Betty’s expectant pair. “No,” he whispered.  _ But I imagine this is what it would feel like. _ “You’ve got to understand, the life of an immortal is a long one, filled with too many losses and heartbreaks. Giving yourself to somebody, it rarely ends well.”

Jughead had seen too many of his immortal friends go through years and years of pain and misery after their mortal loved one passed away and almost as many of his immortal friends going through heartbreaks with other immortals that were so vile, that both parties would much rather if they didn’t have to carry it with themselves for the rest of eternity. He tried a couple of times, when he was much younger, but it never felt right - it never felt worth it.

He never felt his stomach clutching with happiness at the thought of a person, he never felt butterflies fluttering inside his ribcage. There was never a spark that set something in him aflame, there was never a heavy silence full of unspoken words and promises. 

_ But then, there was never anyone quite like Betty. _

Betty, a Shadowhunter and a Cooper as if the universe was attempting to make things worse, Betty with the kindest heart and the smartest mind and the most beautiful eyes. 

If losing himself in them was to be the only thing he’d do for the rest of his life, he’d be perfectly happy with it.

“But not trying - isn’t that worse?” Betty asked, her voice trembling and Jughead wasn’t sure if it was due to the cold breeze in the air or to the heaviness of the tension.

“I feel like it’s me who should be asking that question,” Jughead answered with a small chuckle.

He rubbed his thumb against Betty’s neck one more time before slowly sliding the palm up against her neck, stopping only once Betty’s cheek lied in his palm. She leaned into his touch immediately, her eyes fluttering shut for a few seconds, before opening up again. 

But her gaze didn’t find his, no, her eyes lingering a bit lower on his face and air got sucked out of Jughead’s lungs as he realised it was his lips that caught her attention.

There was a force pulling him closer, one that he couldn’t describe with any other word but  _ magical _ . His knees grew weaker and stomach curled, heartbeat fastening with every passing second. He slowly leant closer and closer, until there were bare inches separating them and Betty’s soft breath tingled him on his face.

But as out-of-this-world as that moment felt, Jughead should have known that it was way too good to be true, that the universe didn’t work like that.

Loud ringing of a phone cut through the silence that surrounded them and with it, breaking the bubble that had been created around them.

The reality came crashing down on Jughead in a form of cold wind sneaking under his shirt and a blaring sound of a car alarm screaming somewhere in the distance. Betty’s phone was still ringing and so he reluctantly dropped his hand from her neck before taking a step away. Distance would do him good; it would do both of them good.

It took a bit longer for Betty to snap completely back to reality. She blinked a few times and furrowed her brows in confusion before she realised that she should probably pick up her phone. With a small grunt, she fished out it out from her jacket’s pocket, quickly checking the caller ID before answering. “This better be important, Cheryl.”

And if the way Betty’s face paled up and a small gasp escaped her lips were anything to go by, there were no good news coming from the other side of the line.

_ But what else had he expected? _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo... what do you think? i want to know it all! (pretty please)
> 
> thank you for the lovely comments and all of your patience, i wouldn't be here without those things. you're so fricking awesome. and so is maggie for putting up with me and betaing. thanks y'all. 💕
> 
> next update on sunday! (which i should manage on time lol)


	18. chapter xviii

The Institute’s Operation Centre was buzzing with people, but still, Betty was able to spot the red-haired trio of her friends almost immediately, accompanied by Polly and Veronica’s mother, even though the younger girl was nowhere to be seen. Betty’s brow furrowed at that - didn’t Veronica say that she needed the night off to hang out with her mom? So if Hermione was here, where was she?

But she didn’t have a chance to linger on that train of thought for too long as once Archie noticed her walking towards them. “Betty! Finally!” he exclaimed happily, but she knew him well enough to easily pick up on the frightened undertone to his voice.

“What happened?” Betty went straight to a point, hoping that there was a chance that this could be resolved quickly and she could maybe, just maybe, return back to Jughead’s place and finish what the phone call interrupted.

“Veronica’s gone,” Jason said simply. 

_ Alright, so that’s a no then. _

“What do you mean gone?” Betty asked, her eyebrows shooting up.

“We went for a walk and we got jumped group of Gargoyles,” Hermione explained with a shaky voice.

“And they took only Veronica?” Betty asked confused.

“I had a blade on me so they didn’t really bother with me. But Veronica was defenceless,” Hermione answered Betty’s question.

Betty looked at the older Shadowhunter skeptically - she wasn’t sure if that was only because this was the first time they have really interacted since all of that stuff with the Tears went down and before that, she had heard very questionable stories about her, or if it was simply because her story didn’t quite add up. If Veronica had been trained by anybody else, Betty would have bought the story about Veronica not having a weapon on herself easily. But since it was them who trained the young girl, Betty couldn’t even recount all of the occasions when they have reminded her to never be caught weaponless. The Shadow World was a cruel and scary place, full of unexpected dangers and enemies and one should always be prepared for that. And also, why would Gargoyles be put off by a Seraph blade? They’re all skilled fighters and Hermione hadn’t properly trained in years…

Something felt very off. “How many Gargoyles?” Betty asked next. 

“Four,” Hermione answered immediately.

“Did you recognise any of them?” Betty fired next question quickly after that.

“Hiram’s right hand was there.”

Betty’s brows furrowed at that. “Reginald Mantle?” she asked.

“That one,” Hermione nodded.

“And when was it?” Betty asked next.

“Half an hour ago? Maybe a bit more? I ran all the way back here from…” Hermione continued speaking, but Betty couldn’t focus on any of the words that were coming out of her mouth.

_ She was lying. _

Hermione was lying her ass off and it could only mean one thing - she was working with Hiram. 

Betty almost forgot how to breathe once the realisation hit her; the air got stuck in her throat, the inhale harsh and itchy against her flesh. It made her chest contract and heavy feeling settle at the bottom of her stomach. All she could do was stare emptily in front of herself, unable to form coherent thought or a word, unable to process the information, unable to deal with the cruel joke that the universe had decided to play on them.

“Hey, Betts,” Archie reached out towards her, placing a gentle hand against her shoulder. But even the soft touch was enough to startle her out of her thoughts, making her whole body jerk away. “You okay?” Archie asked, his voice filled with worry.

Betty slowly dragged her gaze to Archie, seeing all of the questions he was dying to ask etched into his features. “Yeah,” she nodded quickly, pushing the one syllable out, hoping that the short answer wouldn’t betray her with a tremble of uncertainty. 

Archie just gave her one more lingering questioning look before turning away from her and towards Hermione. A wave of calmness and affection overcame her suddenly and it took Betty a moment to realise that the emotions weren’t hers, but flickering sparks coming to her through the bond. Even though her emotions were a complete mess right now and with the information she had just found out she knew she needed to be careful and couldn’t let her guard down not even for a second, she didn’t have the mental strength to push Archie’s offer of help away, so she found herself accepting the waves of support that kept coming her way, gratefully giving to their peacefulness. And with the acceptance, her breathing returned back to normal in next to no time, allowing her to face Hermione once again, with enough confidence that she won’t stutter and accidentally reveal what she knew.

“You should get some rest Hermione, we’ll look into it,” Betty said with a calm and diplomatic voice, giving the older woman a tight-lipped smile and a stern look that left no room for arguing. 

“We’ll let you know as soon as we find something out,” Archie added once he noticed Hermione’s hesitant look. 

She seemed to be persuaded by that, so she nodded, copying Betty’s smile. “You’re probably right - I’m just worried out of my mind.”

_ Sure you are _ , Betty wanted to say, but she bit into the inside of her cheek and instead she just agreed by giving her a sympathetic look and a quick nod. “We’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Get some rest,” Cheryl said caringly as Hermione left their group, making Betty’s stomach twist vigorously. 

They all waited for the woman to be out of earshot before exchanging worried looks.

“You didn’t have to go full interrogation mode on her,” Jason shook his head quickly, addressing his words towards Betty.

Her eyebrows shot up, giving him a confused look. “Didn’t I? She was there - we needed to know everything and as quickly as possible.”

“She just lost her daughter, a bit of sympathy wouldn’t hurt, would it?” Polly snapped right back and although she kept her voice low, she was definitely screaming.

Betty looked at the two of them with disbelief in her eyes - people she trusted the most, people she’d tell anything to, people whose backs she had no matter what apparently didn’t trust her judgement in something as banal as a questioning process. How could she trust them now with something as crucial and important as Hermione working with Hiram? How could she know that they weren’t also in his clutches, helping and aiding him from inside?

She couldn’t tell them - she couldn’t trust them. “Get me something to track her,” Betty said instead, changing the topic.

“Yeah, coming right up,” Cheryl said before disappearing away.

“You know it probably won’t work, right?” Jason asked once his sister was gone.

“We have to try,” Betty shrugged. 

If Hermione was covering for Hiram, there was a high probability that this was the plan all along; that everything about the kidnapping after the wedding was just a ruse to get Veronica injected with the Tears and get Hermione inside the Institute as a mole. But why not keep them both here? Why take Veronica now? And why inject Betty as well, knowing that she’d surely refuse all of his offers? Too many  _ whys _ and too few answers. She needed to think; she needed to get out and breathe; she needed not to be surrounded by people she couldn’t trust.

But where would she go?

Well, there was only one place that could provide that right now.

“Here you go,” Cheryl said, passing Betty a golden bracelet with a phrase in spanish written in cursive. “Veronica said it was a gift from her mundane best friend and apparently emotional value increases strength of tracking signal.”

Betty looked at her with a surprise. “It does,” she agreed, taking the golden bracelet into her palm and reaching into her pocket for her stele. “Archie, a bit of help?”

Her parabatai was by her side immediately, taking her hand that held the accessory into his and patiently waiting for her to start the ritual. She drew a tracking rune on her arm and let her eyes fall closed as she felt the power of the rune magic enter her system, the exciting sensation swiftly spreading through her. Along with that, the Archie’s energy started seeping into her through their bond, the connection amplified by the tracking rune. 

Betty knew she needed to let go and focus on tracking and nothing else; tracking with a parabatai was an intense and intimate action, one that required full focus and complete presence of both parties. If she continued to hold back, Archie would definitely pick up on it, as would she if it were the other way. She had to trust him fully and unconditionally and even though her trust for Archie ran deeper than for any other person, something was stopping her from going full in right now. A part of her questioned him, questioned everything.

Unsurprisingly, the tracking rendered no results, the rune fading away a few minutes after applying. When Betty’s eyes opened, she was met with Archie’s confused look and a question about to fall from his lips. 

“I need some air,” Betty said before Archie had a chance to speak. “Excuse me please.” She turned to walk away, heading in the direction of exit when she heard heavy footsteps following her, ones that could belong to only one person.

Archie caught up to her only once they were already out, away from the prying ears of Shadowhunters that occupied the Operation Centre.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked quickly, no sugar coat or anything.

“Nothing,” Betty bit right back, avoiding his gaze.

“By now, you should know that lying to me never works,” Archie shook his head.

“Well, it’s none of your business,” Betty answered with a small shrug.

“You’re my partner and parabatai and your inability to do your job is my concern,” Archie said with a stern voice. “But most importantly, you’re my sister and I care about you,” he added much more softly.

Betty sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. She was tired already and by the looks of it, tonight was going to be very long. And arguing with Archie never worked; she’s had years to learn that.

“Things are just bad and I don’t know how to fix them,” Betty offered.

“The trick is that you don’t do it alone,” Archie replied immediately. He reached out and placed his hand on Betty’s shoulder, giving it a gentle loving squeeze. “You rely on people you trust to help you; like Veronica is on us.”

Betty knew Archie was right; but then, how could she know who she could trust? Could she trust the Blossoms, could she trust her sister, could she trust anybody in the Institute, could she trust Archie? Could she believe in Veronica and hope that she was really taken against her will and that it was only her mother who was working with Hiram?

“I know,” Betty nodded. 

“Great, let’s go back inside and try looking for Ronnie. Maybe we could try tracking again? Or we could ask the High Warlock for help, he managed to find you the last time, maybe this time he could work something out for Veronica?” Archie rambled and Betty didn’t have the willpower to burst his bubble. She knew how close he grew with Veronica and she could only imagine how afraid of losing her he was, so precisely for that reason, she couldn’t tell him the truth. Even the possibility of Veronica being corrupted by her father would break his heart.

“Go get started without me and I’ll be right there, alright?” Betty gave him a small smile, “I just need a minute to clear my head.”

Archie squeezed her shoulder supportingly one last time before dropping his arm to his body and heading into the Institute. 

Betty watched him disappear into the building and then waited for a few more seconds before pulling out her phone and quickly dialing the number of the only person she could think about right now.

Jughead picked up after the first ring.

“I need to get out of here right now,” Betty said quickly, already walking away from the Institute, “I’ll explain everything later, but I can’t stay here.”

“Where exactly are you?” Jughead asked without missing a beat and by the time Betty was finished with describing the exact spot in the park she stood at, a golden portal had been opened right next to her.

***

Hearing Betty’s terrified voice through his phone’s crappy speaker couldn’t do justice to the dishevelled look that took over her entire face as she stepped out of the golden lit portal. 

Jughead stepped to her on an instinct, bringing his arms around her. “Hey, it’s alright, I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Betty let out a ragged breath, her body losing it’s posture and melting into the offered embrace. 

“C’mon, let’s sit down,” Jughead offered and slowly willed his legs to move, carrying both his and Betty’s weight.

He gently placed her on his couch, summoning a fluffy blanket around her with one snap and setting a kettle full of water on the stove with another.  _ Because that’s what you’re supposed to do - offer a warm beverage to an upset person, right? _

Jughead sank to his knees in front of Betty, gently taking her hand into his; his thumb almost instantly starting to draw crooked circles into the ragged skin of her palm. 

_ Wait, wasn’t it supposed to be soft and gentle? _ Jughead’s gaze dropped down, his eyes fixating on the stark white crescent shaped marks, standing out in sharp contrast to the otherwise pinkish skin of Betty’s palms. His brow furrowed - what could be the cause of such marks? No weapon or equipment popped into his mind, no reasonable answer or explanation.

Except for one, but the sole thought of that sent shivers down his spine.

As if she had noticed his intense stare, Betty drew her hand away, fingers curling gently into a fist and ends of her fingernails perfectly aligning with the scars that littered her skin.

Jughead’s eyes widened in realisation and his throat contracted tightly. “Betty…”

The kettle started whistling lowly in the background, but Jughead could not peal neither his eyes or focus from Betty.

She pulled her hand even further away, shaking her head in the process. “It’s nothing.”

Jughead scoffed. “It’s quite the opposite,” he insisted.

The whistling sound intensified, filling up the silence that the room seemed to fall into in between their whispered words and shaky breaths.

“Betty, dear,” Jughead said carefully. “Let me see.”

The sound was now resembling high-pitched screeching more than anything else, rubbing angrily at Jughead’s ear drums and yet, it still didn’t feel quite as horrifying as the thought of Betty - of the fearless and strong and so perfect Betty - doing this to herself.

Jughead trailed his eyes carefully up, stopping only once they reached Betty’s face. Her eyes were shut tightly and tension was settled in every single one of her features and in that moment, Jughead knew he’d do anything to make that look go away. “Let me help,” he added with a broken whisper, one that was barely audible over the high-pitched ringing.

But as Betty’s eyes snapped open at his words, the word around them seemed to snap shut, the air becoming so thick it bordered on being suffocating, the screeching nothing but a distant memory in the back of Jughead’s head.

“You weren’t supposed to see,” Betty shook her head.

Jughead spared a half of a second to look around the room before landing his eyes back on Betty. “Betty-“

“I’m supposed to be strong and yet, every time things get too much and I feel like I’m on the brink of falling apart, I push and break myself.”

The silence that followed Betty’s words was deafening, maybe even more than the ear-bleeding sound of the water boiling in a kettle.

“Betty-“ Jughead started once more, but didn’t get further again.

“Why can’t I be as carefree as Archie or as brave as Cheryl? Why can’t I be the golden child like Jason or the perfect daughter like Polly? Why do I have to be the broken one?” 

The despair in Betty’s voice alone was enough to shake Jughead to his core, but once he noticed the skin on Betty’s knuckles turning white and probably every single muscle on her hand flexing, his heart broke.

He closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath to calm himself down, knowing he’d be of no use if Betty’s panic attack sent him into one of his own. “Betty, focus on me,” Jughead said, making sure his voice was calming. Instinctively, he reached into his magic, letting the familiar calming energy come out and bubble just underneath the surface of his skin. 

He clicked his tongue once before continuing, snapping Betty’s attention to him. “You are the bravest and the fiercest person I’ve ever met in the long 400 years I’ve lived. Not a day has gone by since I’ve met you that I wasn’t astounded by something you’ve done, something you’ve said, or just simply you. You’ve got to believe me when I say that you're the furthest thing from broken, because I’ve seen - and I’ve been - broken and it’s nothing like this. No, this, you, that’s pure strength.”

Betty blinked a few times, each of the movements slow and dragging, as if it was just an after effect of processing Jughead’s words. 

She took in a shuddering breath and with it finally allowed her shoulders to loosen up, the tension from her face snapping away instantly - and with it, also the bubble that had been created around them; the shrieking of the kettle cutting through the silence.

It seemed that it was only then that the realisation of what she had done hit Betty - her pupils widened in shock and jaw dropped slightly. “I have done it again, haven’t I?”

Jughead nodded. The shrieking of kettle finally passed being just mildly disturbing and moved onto a whole next level of annoying, pushing Jughead to silence it with a snap of his fingers.

“How?” Betty asked. “I hadn’t even noticed it, not until it passed.”

“I have never seen or heard of anything like that,” Jughead shook his head. 

Betty’s expression tensed, a certain worry and fear crossing her face for a mere instance.

“But that doesn’t mean that I’m not going to help you figure it all out,” Jughead quickly added. “If you want to, of course.”

A small smile spread across Betty’s lips, barely noticeable and yet, it seemed to light up the entire room. “Even though I’m a complete mess?”

Jughead didn’t miss a beat before an answer slipped from his lips. “You are the furthest thing from that, dear.”

The room was silent, nothing but two messy breathing patterns filling the air. Jughead had no idea what was running through Betty’s mind but he’d give anything for just a little insight. To see what was wrong, to see what he could do to help-

“Thank you,” Betty whispered, her voice hoarse.

“Anytime,” Jughead answered without hesitating.

Her expression was still way too somber and heavy for Jughead to believe that she had dealt with everything, but it was also determined and calm. The discussion was over, so without saying anything more, Jughead stood up and walked to the kitchen, where the silenced kettle still continued bubbling with boiling water. He made quick work of taking out two cups out of his cupboard and filling them with hot chocolate powder, followed by the hot water. He suspiciously eyed the two poorly-looking drinks in front of him, before snapping his fingers and decorating the tops with an unhealthy pile of whipped cream and sprinkles.  _ That’s more like it. _

Jughead carefully carried the cups back to living room, placing them on the coffee table in front of Betty before taking a seat on the floor next to it. Betty reached for the mug with an amused smirk playing on her lips, but Jughead had learnt to read her face well enough by now to see that it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

He lifted up the second mug and took a tentative sip from it, the hot liquid almost burning his tongue in the process. “You wanna talk about it?

Betty’s smile faltered immediately and anxiety found its way back to her features. “Hermione is working with Hiram.”

“How-”

“And he’s got Veronica,” Betty added and Jughead considered the possibility that he had misheard her, but her voice hadn’t wavered at slightest, the words leaving her mouth clear and unmistakable. 

“What?” 

“That’s what the emergency was about-” Betty said, waving her empty hand around towards the balcony where they were standing not even hours ago as she received the call, “- Hermione and Veronica were out when Hiram’s men jumped them, taking Veronica with them.”

“Only her?” Jughead asked, his brow furrowing.

“Weird, right?” Betty said immediately. “And get this, a few minutes later, I learn that one of the Gargoyles on the scene was no-one else but our dear Reginald Mantle.”

Breath got sucked out of Jughead - that couldn’t have been true. No, no, Mantle was surely still in the holding cell he had portalled him into all the way across the city; he felt him entering it and since that there was no disturbance or anything like that; he was there.

“That’s why I had to get out of there - I couldn’t bear it. Once you know somebody’s compromised, you can’t trust anybody.”

Betty’s words were heavy, but Jughead understood them all too well. There had been more than one occasion in his life where one person made him question everybody; where the taste of betrayal made him bitter and wary even of people he considered friends. 

“I hope you know you can trust me,” Jughead said with a low voice.

Betty answered immediately. “I know.”

Jughead sighed heavily, as both a release and a deep thought. The situation they’ve found themselves in was an unfortunate one, to say at least. They needed to thread carefully and that would require a plan, a clever one, ideally a bullet-proof one, one that already Jughead’s wheels started working on.

“If Hiram decided to go after both you and Veronica now-”

“- He’s about to set some plan in motion, I know,” Betty finished his thought with a heavy exhale. “We’ve got to do something, Jug. If he finds a way to force Veronica to work for him, or worse, if he doesn’t have to force her at all, she could kill dozens of vampires with her sun-rune and  _ angel _ only know what else she be capable of.”

Jughead didn’t want to think about the consequences that would ensue if Hiram persuaded Veronica to help him; and he wanted to think even less about those that would ensue if he didn’t have to do any persuading at all.

Then, a thought occurred to him and before he could stop himself, it left his lips. “Why were you patrolling on your own tonight?”

Betty’s brows furrowed. “We’re understaffed after Hiram’s attack and…” her voice trailed off. “Veronica cancelled on me because Hermione asked her to go to dinner with her.”

“We already know that Hermione is working for Hiram, but would she know where you were patrolling? Mantle couldn’t have looked over the entire city for you.”

A look of utter horror settled on Betty’s face. “Jason,” she whispered slowly, the word barely leaving her mouth. She gulped and her eyes fell closed. “Jason was the one who made the schedule. But he can’t, he would never-”

Betty didn’t finish the sentence. The silence that settled between them after Betty’s words of panic was full of sourness and heaviness, leaving Jughead’s mouth dry and gut clenched.

“You’ll have to go back,” he said eventually.

Betty shook her head. “I can’t.”

Jughead placed his mug down before taking her hand into his. “You have to. It’ll be suspicious if you disappear. It might not be the safest option, but it won’t take long before they figure out you know something and track you down. You have to go back and push through, focus on work, focus on mission, you have to put on a brave face and pretend like nothing’s wrong.”

“I can’t -” Betty’s voice broke mid-sentence, “- Jug, I can’t trust anybody in that building. How am I supposed to go back?” Her head dropped down, her gaze peeling away from Jughead.

“Look at me, Betty,” Jughead said and waited for her to lift her head and her eyes to meet his. “Don’t think, just answer this - who would you trust with your life?”

“Archie,” Betty answered immediately, his name slipping from her lips effortlessly.

Jughead hummed approvingly. “So you go back in and trust him and nobody else. You can do this.”

“You’re probably right,” Betty agreed carefully. “I can do this.”

Jughead smiled encouragingly. “Yes, you can, dear.”

“What will we do next?”

“Next, we’ll come up with a plan and take down Hiram Lodge once and for all.”

***

Betty returned to the Institute a few hours later, after a long and thorough talk with Jughead, full of planning and considering endless possibilities and variables. Even though they still weren’t completely done and the plan they have come up with so far had a few gaping loopholes and relied heavily on people acting certain ways, it was a plan nonetheless and that was enough to calm Betty down at least partially.

But still not enough for her heart not to pick up on speed once she entered the Institute in the early hours of morning.

Cheryl was the first to notice her. “Betty! Where have you been?”

Betty bit her lip before offering a practised excuse. “I just had to process all of this.” She waved her hand around the air nonchalantly, knowing Cheryl would understand the meaning behind her unspoken words. 

“It’s terrifying, I know,” she nodded.

“So, have you made any progress while I was gone?” Betty asked, switching over to working mode. 

_ Focus on work, focus on mission,  _ she replayed Jughead’s words in her mind like a mantra, keeping her sane in what was supposed to be her home, but tonight, it reminded her more of a battlefield than anything else.

“Nothing,” Cheryl shook her head. She motioned towards the brightly shining screen that Jason was examining but Betty couldn’t make her eyes linger; the memory of her conversation with Jughead still too fresh, too raw.

“And Archie?” Betty asked, noticing the absence of her parabatai.

“Training room. I was actually just about to go check up on him, he seemed pretty distressed-”

“I’ll go,” Betty interrupted her immediately.

“Thank you. And go get some sleep afterwards, both of you. We’ll be wiser in the morning.”

Betty just nodded before turning around and disappearing down one of the Institute’s long corridors that led towards the training room. 

She could hear Archie’s loud and exhausted grouts even before pushing the heavy wooden door open and entering the room. As expected, she found him pounding angrily into the punching bag that hung in the corner of the room.

“You want to pick on somebody who can fight back?” Betty called at him, recalling the words he said to her the morning after Jughead saved his life after his near-death experience. 

Archie’s movements stopped and he leaned against the punching bag, taking in deep breaths without turning to face Betty. “Will you fight me or will you continue hiding and running away from me?” 

His tone was hard and words were sharp, the guilt painfully twisting Betty’s gut. She was a bad partner and parabatai to him - but most importantly, she was a bad friend.

Without saying a word, she shrugged off her jacket, unfastened her knife holsters and walked over to the weaponry cabinet. But instead of reaching for a blade or a staff, she picked up bandage, making quick work of covering her wrists with few layers of the fabric, until they felt stable and ready.

She knew Archie well enough to understand that the anger pulsating through their bond was of the deepest type and she knew that a fight wouldn’t solve all of his problems, but it was the closest they would get right now.

“The question is if you’ll fight me,” Betty said as she approached Archie.

He let out an amused laugh and finally pushed himself away from the punching bag. “You don’t want me to fight you right now.”

“Oh, believe me, I do.” Betty took a step towards him, slowly erasing the long distance that separated them. “I can feel your anger and despair Arch, but can you feel mine?”

Archie’s brows furrowed and Betty knew he was mentally dipping into their bond, surely finding the sour taste of anger and betrayal that filled Betty up. 

“All the more reason for me not to get into a fight with you tonight,” Archie said, shaking his head.

Betty’s glared at him, hard and furious, but her gaze just flew by his head. He started walking towards her, but from the sorrow look at his face, Betty knew he was about to ignore her and just walk right past her.

_ Oh, she didn’t think so. _

So, once Archie was about to walk past her, without as much as brushing their shoulders together, Betty decided to act. She twisted her leg out and to the side, placing it conveniently into Archie’s way. The movement was swift and it took Archie off guard; he stumbled and almost lost his balance, but his Shadowhunter reflexes didn’t let him fall to the ground.

“Betty, I’m not fighting you,” Archie growled through his teeth as he regained his balance.

“Why?” Betty asked him, challenge all over her voice.

Archie sighed exasperatedly. “Because neither of us are in the right state of mind.”

“So?” Betty cocked her head to side.

It was already late and although she was supposed to slowly start getting tired, her body was having none of that, buzzing with energy and lowly-bubbling rage. The hot bursts of anger she felt when she realised the traitorous nature of Hermione long subsided, mainly thanks to Jughead and his reassurances, but they had been replaced by this, which she inherently thought to be much worse.

And as Archie didn’t seem to plan on answering her question, Betty took a step forward and swung her fist at him. 

He ducked out of the way effortlessly, taking a step away. “You know fighting isn’t the solution to everything.”

Betty laughed and stepped closer before taking another swing at him. “Neither is running away from a fight.”

Archie’s expression fell as he moved away from the trajectory of her fist. “I never run away.”

“Then prove it,” Betty challenged him, her hands following her words quickly.

Betty wasn’t sure if it was her no-nonsense tone or the good-aimed punch that finally broke Archie, but once his hand shot up and caught her fist mid-flight, she knew she had won; she knew he was going to fight back.

A small smile appeared on Betty’s lips, but she didn’t have time to revel in this victory as Archie let go of her hand and started up his own attack. 

A left hook aimed at Betty’s head was quickly followed by a right one; she chose to step out of the way of his fist, but still pulled her arms up to block her face. That turned out to be a good call, as that was exactly where Archie’s next blow headed. However, the blocking move obstructed her view for a bit too long, which presented Archie with an opening - he leaned forward and bumped his back against Betty’s hip.

The move was unexpected and Betty stumbled back a few steps, quickly regaining her balance.

She out stretched her hand, motioning for Archie to start, to erase the distance that had formed between them as a result of his attack.

And she didn’t need to ask twice - not anymore.

He quickly launched forward, his fists flying in a heat of anger and despair. But the same rage that fueled Archie’s offence supported Betty’s defence; her blocks impenetrable, expecting every Archie’s move as if she could feel it coming before Archie himself made the decision. 

And maybe a part of her could, a part that connected her to Archie through their parabatai bond, a part that they shared. A part that allowed her to fight by his side without needing to open her eyes, a part that allowed her to trust him deeply and unconditionally. A part that knew him inside out, that knew all of his darkest secrets and deepest desires, that accepted him with all of his mistakes and flaws and that still loved him unconditionally.

This was Archie - her best friend, her brother, her second half in so many ways.  _ Why did she even question him; how could she have not trusted him immediately? _

The despair that came with that realisation hit Betty hard, harder than any of the angry punches that Archie kept throwing her away.

“I’m sorry,” slipped her lips.

Archie’s hand froze mid-flight. “What for?”

“Everything. Shutting you out, lying to you,” Betty said. “Not trusting you.”

His eyebrows shot up and with it, he lowered his arm down completely, desire to fight long forgotten. “I’m listening,” Archie’s head dropped to side, his eyes carefully watching Betty as he awaited her explanation.

Betty quickly scanned the room around them, needing to make sure that they were still as alone as when she entered and that no stray ears would eavesdrop on their conversation. After all, she needed to be careful of what she said in the Institute; it’s not like she could trust anybody, not anymore.

“You have to promise me not to tell this to anybody,” Betty said, lowering her voice to a point barely above a whisper.

Archie nodded without missing a beat. “You have my word.”

Betty took one last steadying and encouraging breath before speaking. “Hermione is working with Hiram.”

Her words hung in the air between them, already out of her mouth but not yet accepted by Archie, if his confused and shocked expression was anything to go by.

“No,” he shook his head. “That can’t be true.”

“Would I lie to you?” Betty asked. “Would I be telling you this if I wasn’t a hundred percent sure?”

“No, but…” The words died out on Archie’s lips. “We - You made Hiram let her go. He was holding her against her will.”

Betty sighed heavily. “He could have easily made it look that way.”

“Why - How?” Archie let out, clearly unable to pick the most urgent question. “How can you be sure?”

Betty sighed, rolling the words around her tongue cautiously before revealing the truth. “I have it on good authority that Mantle was nowhere near Hermione tonight.”

Archie’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m going to need a bit more than a  _ good authority. _ ”

“Mantle couldn’t have been apprehending Veronica and Hermione, because -” Betty exhaled quickly - it was now or never, “- because Jughead and I ran into him in the city and he’s been in a holding cell ever since.”

“Wait, what?” was Archie’s first reaction and if she was to be honest with herself, it was exactly what she expected. The confusion took over every part of his face, his jaw clenching and brows furrowing until there was nothing but a thin vertical line amongst them; and then, his eyes widened in surprise.

“What were you doing with Jughead?” he asked suspiciously.

Betty scoffed. “Is that seriously the part you should be focusing on?”

“Yes, it is,” Archie deadpanned. 

“He was patrolling with me, since Jason didn’t think it was necessary to assign me somebody,” Betty explained.

“And so you asked the High-”

“Can we focus on the more pressing matter?” Betty interrupted him before the rest of the question could leave his mouth. “Please?” she added.

It didn’t stop Archie’s intense gaze from continuing piercing her or from what she was sure were dozens of questions and worries swirling through her parabatai’s mind, but it did seem to make him see the bigger picture. “Right. So, if Hermione is working with Hiram…” his sentence trailed off, but Betty knew what would have followed without needing to hear it.

“We have to consider that possibility, yes,” she nodded somberly. 

The idea of Veronica being corrupted terrified her to a bone; she trusted the girl, she introduced her to the Shadow World, she taught her everything there was to know about it. She offered her protection, she offered her friendship.  _ Heaven _ , Betty went even a step further and exchanged her life for a promise of her safety - the simple possibility of all of that being a lie, of all of that being for nothing sent a cold shiver down her spine. No, it couldn’t be -

“I don’t believe that,” Archie shook his head, his thoughts probably running in a very similar circles to hers.

“I don’t want to either, but we’ve got to consider-”

“No, we don’t. She isn’t like that - she isn’t her father.” 

There was a certain resolution and determination in his words, and  _ oh _ how much would Betty love to just nod and let herself believe they were the truth. But the reality was different - and a much more cruel one.

“Maybe she isn’t,” Betty said slowly, picking her words carefully. “But what if she is like her mother?”

Even though Archie’s head shook in refusal, the lack of answer or explanation told a different story. The silence that followed Betty’s words was a heavy one, filled with too many terrifying possibilities and unsaid fears, filled with the bitter taste of betrayal and heartbreak.

“What do we do?” Archie asked, his voice much lower than it was the last time they spoke.

“There’s a plan in motion and I’m going to need you on board,” Betty said slowly.

“You’re my parabatai,” Archie answered simply, not needing to elaborate or explain, both of them well aware of the promise that word carried. He’d always be by her side no questions asked, he’d always trust her unconditionally, he’d follow her to hell and back if she asked him to.

And maybe that’d be less scary than where they needed to go now.

_ What did it say about Hiram Lodge if even hell seemed not so terrifying in comparison to him? _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i love y'all. thank you for reading and commenting and reblogging and just generally, loving this fic. it means the world to me, really. 💕 and also, thank you maggie for betaing this fic for me, it would be a disaster without you.
> 
> btw, with this chapter, the length of the fic tips over 100k words and i am still somehow at the fact that _i_ created something that huge and that i'll actually see it through till the end (i've just started the last chapter, so i'm hopefully not jinxing it lol)


	19. chapter xix

The plan Betty and Jughead agreed on after realising that if they weren’t going to stop Hiram soon, something terrible would definitely go down, wasn’t a complicated one and yet, they seemed to stumble upon trouble on almost every step.

Thankfully, Archie was aboard, no questions asked and Betty was extremely thankful for that, since she knew better than everybody how close he was to Veronica and how terrifying the possibility of her working with Hiram must have been for him. But he didn’t let that show, knowing much better than that - instead, he put on a brave face and pretended like nothing was wrong. And so in return, Betty feigned ignorance every time she felt the now very familiar pang of despair or overwhelming fear seep through their bond.

But the three of them alone weren’t enough to fight Hiram and all of his Gargoyles, not even with Jughead’s magic and Betty’s powers, and especially since she couldn’t control them.

“C’mon, you can do it,” Jughead encouraged her for the upteenth time.

Betty’s eyes fell closed with an exasperated sigh; she took in a deep breath, air moist and heavy with an oncoming storm. She was supposed to be on a patrol with Archie right now, but instead the two of them were on the rooftop of Jughead’s building attempting to gain at least some control of Betty’s powers. And sadly, they were failing spectacularly so far.

“It’s not working,” Betty huffed. A thunder sounded somewhere over New York, not quite in Brooklyn yet, but close enough to send shivers down Betty's spine.

“Then try again,” Jughead insisted.

“Maybe we should take a break,” Archie offered instead, also probably exhausted.

But Betty shook her head, pushing against every cell of her body that was screaming at her to give into Archie’s words and just collapse. “No, Jug is right. We can’t stop until we make this work.”

Going after Hiram was going to be hard and Betty’s ability to slow time would come in very handy, if only they could make it work on command. And although the task seemed to be an easy one, it turned out to be more challenging than any of them could have expected. So far, all of the times she managed to trigger it was when her emotions were running high, when her anxiety and fear made it impossible to breathe and for world not to spin.

Their initial idea was for Jughead to make crazy scenarios come to life, in an attempt to mimic any of the events when Betty’s powers reacted; be it the argument with her mother, the moment they came to her rescue on Hiram’s ship or the meeting with Reginald in the dark valley. Situations, where in theory, Betty’s anxiety should have been flying off radar.  _ In theory. _

But no matter what they did, Betty still felt the ever-present calming buzzing of Jughead’s magic around them, she still felt cold wind blowing against her face and messing up her ponytail, pulling her out of the scenarios and back to the safety of Jughead’s rooftop. Even the seraph blade in her hands felt all too real; its low pulsating energy always broke her focus on the spell.

Betty slid the blade into her holster and cracked her knuckles before meeting Jughead’s gaze. “Give me another one.”

Jughead obliged with a sigh. He swung his hands in the air a couple of times, the movements swift and fluid, leaving nothing but a trail of golden sparks in their wake. He murmured something in latin alongside that, something that Betty probably would have understood if she wasn’t so focused on the way light caught against the polished silver of his rings, making his hands shine not only thanks to magic.

So lost in the beautiful haze, Betty almost missed the way her surroundings transformed, the breathtaking view of New York disappearing and replaced by cold metals and mouldy wooden panels of an old ship. 

Her eyes grew heavy, probably due to the combination of tiredness, Jughead’s magic and memories that still terrified her to her core. She’d kill for a break, but Jughead was right - there was no time to waste. For all they knew, Hiram could be making his move right now and they needed the advantage her powers would provide. They needed to figure this out; she needed to figure this out.

Betty released a long sigh and let her mind travel back to that ship. She imagined the stale air that felt salty on her lips, she imagined the cold breeze that managed to sneak through the cracks in the walls. She imagined the creaky floorboards and the gentle swinging of the ground; she imagined the flashing yellow lights and the long dark shadows they ca, perfect for hiding.

With another shuddering breath, she let her mind go back to the room full of Gargoyles, all of their curious stares and muffled conversations. She could  _ almost  _ feel their eyes back on her once again, piercing her back as she walked through their ranks. 

But still, the voice of Hiram Lodge seemed to come to her with the least effort; low and slick, with thick Spanish accent and wicked words. 

_ This is a gift, Elizabeth, and yet, nobody will understand. They’ll fear you, they’ll resent you, every single one of them. But not me - never me.  _

Betty gulped, the words ringing in her ears, so sour she could almost taste them, so manipulative they made her stomach clench and swirl vigorously.

The air around her became colder, the temperature surely dropping down a few degrees and with that, the memory of one of the Gargoyles carrying a syringe filled with a subtly glowing white liquid played out in front of her.  _ Hiram Lodge destroyed her life and yet he wasn’t brave enough to do it himself _ .

Betty closed her eyes and prepared herself for the sting that she knew was about to come; she prepared herself for the excruciating pain that she knew was about to come. 

_ Don’t think about it - you weren’t prepared that first time. _

So instead, she tried to remember what were her last thoughts before it happened the first time, the original time.

She remembered feeling a small sliver of hope and happiness blossom in her chest as she watched the people she had traded her life for get off the ship safely, she remembered being proud that her sacrifice wasn’t for nothing. She thought about her duty and promise to always offer protection, about the fundamental meaning behind being a Shadowhunter. Of course, upholding the law had always been a priority, but ensuring that the weaker ones were protected usually went hand in hand with it.

But that wasn’t the only thing she had thought about;  _ no. _

Her last thoughts weren’t all this noble and selfless. No, she dedicated a part of them to the people she cared about, people she loved. They were full of dark black runes and fiery red hair, they were full of long hours in the training rooms and even longer out in the streets of New York. They were full of supportive words and loving touches, they were full of friendship and a sense of family.

Looking back, she supposed that it was probably in that moment the realisation had dawned on her - she can’t be selfless her entire life. Because, with all those memories of people she loved, came a sharp pang that tasted a bit too much like regret. Regret, because of all of the opportunities she had passed on when she put her job first. Because of all of the people she could have cared about, she could have loved.

_ Jughead _ .

Betty’s eyes snapped back open. The scene around her had already changed, the calm and organised lines of Gargoyles dispersed as the room began filling with the Shadowhunters from New York Institute, her friends and family. 

But yet, her eyes were on none of them.

No, they locked onto Jughead’s - the real Jughead’s, not the fake copy that was a part of the simulation - and a small smile spread across her lips.

She couldn’t remember the bitter taste of regret anymore, no. Instead, her chest filled with butterflies and her heart soared; beating so frantically she feared that it might burst out of her ribcage and run away from her to the person that already owned it.

A drop of rain fell on her cheek - the storm was here, but Betty couldn’t care less.

Not when her eyes were locked onto a piece of cloudless sky, the only still piece in the spinning world, the only source of light in the hazy surroundings.

_ Is this what caring for somebody you choose feels like? _

_ Is this what free fall feels like? _

No, free fall should feel quite the opposite - the wind shouldn’t be stilling around her, it should be gaining on strength and speed. The rain shouldn’t be slowing, the raindrops should be hitting her skin with higher frequency, each one of them stinging more than the one before. Everything around should be blurred, but not in this vague way, no, the shapes should be stretched out, simple spots becoming lines because of the speed she plummets with.  _ This doesn’t feel like a free fall, no - _

This feels like the world coming to a halt.

Betty blinked once. And then another time. And once more before her eyes were finally able to focus on her surroundings.

The world was eerily silent; the screeching of tires from cars stopping at the intersection a few stories below ceased, the loud conversations of people passing by their building were nothing but a mere memory lingering in the air. Even the slow thumping of raindrops hitting the ground had stopped - instead, they floated in the air, hovering all around Betty as if somebody hung them on a string from the clouds above.

A soft gasp left Betty’s mouth as she slowly dragged her hand up, too afraid that sudden movements might disturb the precious hold she had on her powers. Her fingers itched to touch the drops of water, to feel the sensation of water running against her skin while it floated in the air, motionless and frozen in time. 

Betty’s interest in the raindrops quickly died out as her gaze landed back on Jughead. On her precious Jughead, with a small wrinkle formed between his brows as he focused on the magic flowing out of his hands and creating this scenario around Betty; a scenario that at the end wasn’t even the key to her powers.

They suspected they were anxiety induced, pulling on Betty’s fear and anger, on her need to protect and save the ones around her.

_ But was it really because of that? _

_ Or was it triggered by something completely different? _

_ By something… more hopeful? _

Betty closed her eyes with a small sigh. The air had barely time to leave her lips before the world started back up again, the feeling of raindrops hitting her body unmistakable for anything else. But she wasn’t angry for not holding it longer, no.

A serenity had settled upon her, peacefulness she hadn’t felt in quite a while. 

_ Hope _ .

“Betty?” Jughead asked carefully.

Betty blinked, still not focused back on reality enough to realise that the humming presence of magic had disappeared and with it the mirage of the creaky ship deck full of Gargoyles and bad memories.

“Are you alright?” Archie’s question followed, his voice laced with worry and care.

Betty didn’t have to think before answering. “Yeah.” A beat. “In fact, I’m perfect.”

A small smile appeared on Jughead’s lips and his eyes twinkled with a question. “Did it work?”

Betty bit her lip and nodded.

“Really?” Archie beamed happily. He crossed the distance between them and wrapped his hands around Betty, picking her up off her feet and swinging around in the air while his happy laughter filled their surroundings.

“Really,” Betty nodded. She gently squeezed Archie’s biceps as a sign to put her down, one he understood immediately as he gently lowered her down.

Once the ground underneath her feet was solid and the world wasn’t spinning around her anymore, she turned her full attention to Jughead. But the warlock wasn’t standing where he had been just seconds ago, the rooftop empty except for the two of them and the slowly intensifying rain.

“Where did he go?” Archie asked confused.

“I don’t know, let me see,” Betty said with a furrowed brow.

Archie nodded. “I think I’m going to head back, I promised Cheryl to help out with one of her missions tonight. You’ll be fine without me?”

This time it was Betty’s turn to nod. “Yeah, go.”

“See you later,” was all Archie said before taking out his stele and redrawing his agility rune. It activated in mere seconds and before Betty could say anything, he was already three rooftops away.

“Show-off,” Betty chuckled lightly for herself as she made her way towards the door leading back into the building.

She slowly opened it and peeked her head in, but the staircase was nothing but dark and empty. “Jug?” she called out tentatively, but the only answer she got was a small echo.

_ He could be anywhere, _ she thought as she slowly descended through the staircase.  _ But he won’t _ , something in her answered when she reached his floor. She headed towards his apartment and didn’t even bother with knocking; instead, she turned the doorknob and let herself in. 

The loft seemed empty, but Betty could feel the subtle caressing on her face, she could smell the petrichor mixed with burnt sugar and levander. Her legs carried her across the room without any prompting, leading her to the exact spot where she would run if things got too much.

And there he was; a silhouette overlooking the night New York city covered by storm clouds.

Betty joined him on the balcony without saying anything. She leaned against the railing and instead at him, she looked towards the city as well, her body copying his position without any prompting.

There was a certain tension to Jughead’s body and Betty itched to ask; she itched to help and ease whatever was troubling his mind.

“You know, it really fascinates me how you can just get into my apartment like that,” Jughead said without moving his gaze.

“Oh?” Betty’s head fell to the side, not quite sure what he meant by that.

“My wards, my magic -” he raised his hand pointedly and let a few golden sparks escape his fingers, “- they should tell me when somebody walks into my home. They should stop them.”

“So why don’t they?” Betty asked, interest clear in her voice.

But Jughead didn’t answer, instead just hummed lightly, abandoning the conversation at that. Betty sneaked a quick look at him; he seemed lost in his thoughts, drifted far away in his mind. She yearned to know where it was.

“A penny for your thoughts?” she asked after a few moments, restless from waiting.

Jughead released a sigh, followed by a few quick hand movements that left a trail of sparks behind his fingers and summoned a drink to his hand. He toyed with the fancy glass for a few moments before lifting it up to his lips and taking a, probably bigger than appropriate, sip.

“I know I said that figuring out how your powers work is crucial and it would be a huge help against Hiram, but I’m not so sure anymore.”

Betty’s brows furrowed. “And why’s that?”

“I hate putting you through that,” he explained, motioning his hand up to the rooftop. “I can’t keep doing it. It’s simply not worth it.”

His voice sent shivers up Betty’s spine, so full of care and worry that it almost made her knees buckle and stomach twirl with hundreds of butterflies. A small smile started forming on her lips, one that blossomed much deeper, somewhere dangerously close to her frantically beating heart. 

“Jug,” she said, making sure that the single word came out as soft as she felt. Betty raised her hand up and reached towards his cheek, gently placing her palm against his soft skin. So close to him, she could feel the hesitation before he leaned into her touch fully, but once he did, she could also feel the warmth and energy that radiated from him.

So, she focused on that.

Her eyes fell closed and she let her fingers run along his jaw, feeling the subtle buzzing of the magic that was flowing through his veins almost at her fingertips. The power he possessed might have been one of the most intriguing and, for lack of a better word,  _ magical _ , things Betty had a chance to see in her life; from the way small golden sparkles floated around his ring-clad fingers, through the ease with which he summoned whatever he needed, all the way to his ability to create life-imitating simulations and scenarios with just a few flicks of his wrists.

But if she were to be honest, all of that didn’t even matter; not when his kindness overshone his powers tenfold. He might hide behind a cold facade built of tall walls and impenetrable defences, but who wouldn’t be wary of strangers and especially if they have a habit of being rude and horrible? However, underneath that carefully crafted mask was a good man, one that wore his heart on his sleeve and would split himself up into pieces if it meant that his friends and family were taken care of, were protected.

Betty still wasn’t sure how she got so lucky that he granted her a privilege to peak underneath that mask, but she already knew that it was the best thing that happened in her life.

He gave her a chance to explore the unknown, to maybe,  _ just maybe _ , explore the possibility of happiness.  _ A hope _ .

When Betty opened her eyes, she didn’t even have to look around her to know that there were thousands of raindrops floating around them, frozen in a moment of time.

“Jug,” she said simply as she continued to stroke his jaw. 

His eyes found hers, the crystal clear blue of them so intoxicating and breathtaking, Betty’s knees almost buckled and the control of her powers almost slipped from her grasp. But thanks to some miracle, she managed to stay focused whilst she got lost in them. 

“How?” he asked. His voice betrayed him, trembling even as the single syllable left his lips.

“I’m pretty sure anxiety is a great trigger for my powers,” Betty started slowly. “I think you might be a better one.”

Jughead gasped, his pupils widening as Betty’s words reached his ears and his jaw fell down, his mouth opening in a shock. His expression prompted a laugh from Betty and with it, her focus slipped away from her completely, the world around them unfreezing and falling onto them with such force and intensity that if they both weren’t already completely soaked through, this would have done the job just perfectly.

But that didn’t matter. In fact, nothing seemed to matter as Jughead slowly joined in to Betty’s laughter and for a few moments, everything terrifying and hard that was coming was forgotten - for a few moments, it was just the two of them, blissfully happy and together.

***

Since the first part of their plan turned out pretty successfully, there was a sliver of hope burning in Betty’s chest about the second part going on in similar fashion. She managed to hold onto that for a couple of days it took Jughead get everything ready, each one of them more antagonising than the one before.

Jughead insisted that she and Archie had to act like everything was normal and nothing new was happening, even though both of their skins crawled in presence of Hermione and their search for Hiram’s hideout was excruciatingly slow and uneventful. All of that made her job, which in any other case would be the best distraction, the worst pain and chore ever and people slowly started to pick up on it.

Cheryl was the first to corner her about it. “What’s going on with you?” 

Both of them were in full gear, just about to go on a patrol (which in Betty’s case meant that she was meeting Jughead a few hours later to set the second part of their plan into motion) and Betty had to admit, red was Cheryl’s colour - and especially when the girl was angry.

“Nothing,” Betty shrugged. Her eyes avoided Cheryl’s penetrative gaze by dropping to the holster of knives attached to her forearm - her fingers instinctively started pulling on a stray thread that stood out.

“You can’t lie to me that easily Coop,” Cheryl shook her head. “I’ve noticed you sneaking out every night, I’ve noticed how unfocused and distracted you’ve been this whole investigation.” Cheryl clicked her tongue. “You’re hiding something.”

Blood rushed into Betty’s cheeks immediately - of course people would notice, of course Cheryl would notice.

“It’s nothing,” Betty shook her head, her mind already working on an excuse. “I’ve just - I’ve been following a lead on Veronica but I keep running into dead ends.”  _ Yeah, that sounds believable. _

“Oh really?” Cheryl cocked her eyebrow at her. “And what might that lead be?”

Betty’s throat dried out in seconds. “Uhm…”

“You’re sneaking out to see some boy, aren’t you? Is he a werewolf? Or, uh, a seelie?” Cheryl’s tone was suggestive and it left Betty confused for a second, before her mind restarted, snapping to reality. 

“Yeah,” Betty found herself nodding, going on with the offered excuse.

Cheryl squealed from happiness. “You’ve got to tell me everything!”

“I am not talking about him,” Betty said with a stern voice, one that would get most people to back off.

But then, Cheryl was never  _ most people _ . “C’mon, you’ve got to!” Cheryl pleaded, “I tell you about all of the girls I go out with!”

“And I never asked you to,” Betty retorted back immediately.

But the words just flew over Cheryl’s head. “How about we go on patrol together and you can tell me all about him?

Betty’s eyes widened in shock and blood froze in her veins. “I’ve already made plans with Archie -”

“Phf, please. You’ve been patrolling with Archie for the whole week already,” Cheryl rolled her eyes. 

_ Because he can cover for me when I sneak off to Jughead’s place to work on taking Hiram down _ , Betty thought.

“Tonight, you’re with me. And don’t even try to argue!” 

“Cheryl,” Betty pleaded, but Cheryl’s gaze snapped to her, a fire that could kill raging in her eyes, so Betty just shut her mouth, silently accepting her defeat.

Tonight just got a whole lot harder and she hadn’t even left the Institute yet.

“Let me just tell Archie, alright?” Betty sighed.

“I’ll meet you outside in five,” Cheryl offered and disappeared down the hall before Betty had a chance to say anything.

With a gruff, she went to look for Archie, quickly making her way through the dark corridors she knew like the back of her hand, enjoying the moments of silence that the empty halls provided before having to endure the long patrol with Cheryl.

It was probably for that exact reason that when the hushed voices coming from a corridor that lead to nothing but a storage closet and an emergency exit reached her ears, instead of just passing by without thinking twice, she slowed down and pressed her body against the wall, hiding herself in the shadows.

She knew that eavesdropping wasn’t nice or noble, but there was a part of her that just couldn’t resist.  _ A few seconds wouldn’t hurt anybody, right? If the conversation turns out to be private, she’ll just forget it and leave… _

“Hiram wants to make the move tomorrow,” Hermione’s voice reached Betty and almost made her throw up. Hermione was talking to somebody about Hiram’s plans, here, in the Institute, which meant -

“Tomorrow? Isn’t that too early?” another voice asked and it didn’t take Betty long to realise who it belonged to and once she did, she felt air get knocked out of her lungs.  _ Jason _ .

“He’s sick of waiting,” Hermione offered as explanation. “If your sister won’t join him willingly, she’ll have to suffer the consequences of knowing that all of those Downworlders died because of that.”

Betty’s brows furrowed at that - what did Hermione mean by  _ your sister? _ What would Hiram want with Cheryl? 

“Maybe I could find a way to persuade her,” another, softer, voice said. 

_ No, no, no, no - _

“Polly, we can’t risk her noticing something is up,” Jason said.

Betty clasped her hand over her mouth to silence a cry that almost escaped her lips - but there was no way to stop her eyes from filling up with tears or the stabbing pain that pierced through her heart. Her mind was spinning, her ears were ringing and for all she knew the world could burst into flames and she wouldn’t feel a damn thing, because  _ nothing _ could top this feeling of utter dread and heartbreak that she just felt;  _ nothing _ .

A battle started up inside of her - she needed to get away from the walls that were closing in on her, she needed to breathe, to fill her desperately empty lungs, she needed to think. But at the same time, she couldn’t move and not just because her legs had turned into stone. No, she couldn’t move because she needed to hear more; she had to hear more.

So she just shut her eyes as tightly as possible, willing the tears to stop trying to push out and with the hand still pressed against her mouth, she didn’t move an inch.

“- people can we count on?” Hermione asked. Betty clearly missed a bit of the conversation, but that hopefully wouldn’t matter.

“Eleven, including us,” Jason answered.

“Any luck with Cheryl?” Hermione asked and Betty held her breath.  _ Please, please, please. _

“No.”

A small stone fell off Betty’s heart and even though it was small, she counted it as a victory. She can trust Cheryl,  _ thank the angel _ .

“We can make do without her,” Hermione hummed. “We’ll meet according to the plan tomorrow, alright? Do  _ not _ be late.”

Betty quickly realised that she probably wasn’t going to hear any of that plan and that a sentence like that could mean only one thing - the end of a meeting. 

Quickly running through her options (not that she had many), Betty decided that not moving was probably the best one. If she got lucky, they would head in the other direction and she’d be completely fine. And thankfully, the corridor was dark enough that they shouldn’t even notice her if they decide to walk past her - but she quickly drew her stele and traced a soundless rune on her wrist, followed by an unseen rune, just to be completely sure.

The shadows embraced her entirely after that, almost as if they allowed her to be a part of them, accepting her as one of their own. If the situation were any different, she supposed there would be some sort of poetic symbolism in that, but she couldn’t let her mind wonder, not now.

It took a few seconds for the three Shadowhunters to finally exit the corridor and head their separate ways - Jason and Polly to the right and Hermione passing past her to the left.

Betty hadn’t moved for long after the corridor had cleared out; she knew Cheryl would be pissed, but if Betty moved right now, her heart would probably jump out of her chest and drop on the floor, shattering into millions of pieces in the process. 

She covered her face with her palms and then slowly dragged her hands down, part of her hoping that the dirty skin of her face that had been exposed to the harsh reality would come off with the motion, that she could scrub herself clean of the words that she had heard. But the horror stuck to her skin and refused to leave, instead just sunk deeper and deeper, slowly making its way through her muscles and into the bloodstream.

She wanted to scream, she wanted to hit something, she wanted to pierce the skin of her palms and draw so much blood that it would numb the pain that flew through her body so effortlessly. And a part of her almost did all of those things.

But thankfully, there was another part of her and that one was more reasonable.

So, she found the strength to listen to it, slowly pushing herself away from the wall and making her way through hauntingly silent Institute. 

She needed to get Archie and Cheryl and get the  _ fuck _ out of there right now.

But with her heart thumping against her ribcage to the almost painful point, with her gut twisting into a tight knot, one that Betty had no idea how to undo and her thoughts running too fast for her mind to even attempt to keep up with them, the task was much harder than she first expected. Not even curling her fists up and drawing blood with her fingernails seemed to be enough to bring her back to reality.  _ Maybe because she already was back in reality, and it was simply too much to bear. _

Every breath she tried to take got stuck on her lips, unable to pass any further. She was desperate; for air, for water, for something that would ground her, that would calm her.

And apparently, somebody was looking out for her, as her desperate unspoken cries were heard out and help appeared in the form of heavy combat boots, red mess of hair and a familiar strong embrace.

“Hey, you’re safe, I’m here,” Archie whispered as he squeezed her in his hands, his palm gently stroking Betty’s back. “Everything is alright.”

Betty wanted to shake her head and tell him that he couldn’t be more wrong, that nothing was alright - but how could she speak when she struggled with something as simple as breathing? How could she push the words out when her throat contracted so tightly that she couldn’t even gulp? How could she tell him what had happened when that would only make it more real and she wasn’t sure she could handle it?

_ But you'll have to _ , a small voice in her argued.  _ He needs to know and more importantly, Jughead needs to know. You can’t break down now, no - there are people who need protecting, there are people who need you. _

Betty slowly pushed herself away from Archie’s chest. She dragged her eyes up to meet his, his look unsurprisingly full of worry and fear; he definitely must have felt the turmoil of emotions that hit her just minutes ago through their bond as if it were his own.

Taking a shaky but deep breath, Betty ran her fingers underneath her eyes, hoping that the action would remove any remnants of her tears. She could do this - she had to do this.

“What’s happened?” Archie asked her carefully, his voice full of worry she failed to notice the first time he spoke.

Betty didn’t answer, just shook her head and pressed a finger against her lips.  _ She couldn’t talk about it here. _

Thankfully, Archie’s expression quickly changed and deep focus settled onto his features, covering up some of the worry that they carried just seconds before. He took a deep breath in through his nose, during which he let his eyes fall shut and nobody needed to explain the routine to Betty - it was a calming one, something she had done dozens of times when she needed to put on a brave face for the world while everything inside threatened to burst into millions of pieces.

“So, I thought that for tonight’s patrol, we could take the Downtown, the sighting of demons there had increased drastically over the last week,” Archie said, his voice sharp and emotionless. He motioned Betty to walk next to him and she gratefully accepted, thankful for his support and understanding. “Worth checking out, right?”

“Yeah,” Betty agreed, forcing the word out. Her voice sounded strained and tired, but at least it sounded. “We should take Cheryl as well,” she added.

“Are you sure?” Archie asked as they reached the Operations Centre. It was buzzing with Shadowhunters, but none of them paid any attention to the two of them.

“I am,” Betty nodded. 

After hearing what she had heard, she knew even better than before that they would need all of the help they could get. Even if the second part of their plan succeeded, they’d still risk being overpowered and outnumbered and Betty just couldn’t - she wouldn’t risk having all of their deaths of her consciousness. 

One person won’t make a difference, but nobody could stop Betty from trying anyways.

To say that Cheryl was confused when she saw both Betty and Archie exit the Institute was the least. Her eyebrows were knitted together so tightly that a single line barely had space to form between them and a frown on her lips was anything but a pleased one.

“I thought I was clear that we needed some girl time,” Cheryl said, her glare piercing through Archie.

“There’s been a slight change of plans,” Betty shrugged. She hadn’t even stopped by the spot where Cheryl had been waiting, walking right past her, heading further from the Institute and deeper into the park as fast as possible.

Cheryl caught up to them after a short hesitation, jogging up to Betty’s side. “What’s going on?”

Betty opened her mouth to explain, but then promptly closed it before saying anything. They were still too close to the Institute - she couldn’t talk, not yet.

“You wanted to know why I was so distracted the past few days,” Betty offered instead.

“I did,” Cheryl nodded, her voice both excited and hesitant.

“Well then, let me explain along the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all the love you have for this fic, i can't even begin to explain how much it means to me. you're all so fucking amazing 💕 and especially maggie, who puts up with me and betas all chapters.
> 
> _btw, just thought i'd let you know that today i officially started writing an epilogue for this monster of a fic, so if you see me getting emotional over on tumblr, that's probably the reason. i can't believe it's already here._
> 
> anyways, see you again on tuesday, my loves.


	20. chapter xx

To Betty’s surprise, Cheryl took the news surprisingly well - if by well she meant that the girl managed to go through various stages of denial, rage, anger and now just silently resigning and accepting what she had learnt. Betty could imagine very well the mess her thoughts must have been right now, the wound of betrayal still fresh in her chest as well.

Betty texted Jughead a little after leaving the Institute to let him know they were on their way and by the time they reached the Whyte Wyrm, he was already waiting outside, leaning casually against the bar’s wall, greeting them with small smiles and questioning looks. 

“I’ll explain everything after, alright?” Betty said before Jughead had a chance to ask anything about the new addition to their team.

Whyte Wyrm had been closed for tonight for a private function, at least according to the messily handwritten sign placed in front of its doors. Of course, the four of them ignored it and Jughead just simply opened the door, waiting until all of them entered the bar before going in himself.

“I’m going to be by your side the entire time,” he whispered into Betty’s ear as the door closed behind them.

“Thank you,” Betty gave him a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Her anxiety had taken care of that. 

Jughead gently squeezed her hand in his own, untangling her fingers from the fist they had curled into without her even noticing. She gave him another thankful smile before closing her eyes and taking in a deep inhale.

_ This was it. This was the moment they were all relying on - if they couldn’t persuade the Downworlders to help and finally take a stand against Hiram, they’d get slaughtered. _

Betty wasn’t about to let that happen.

On an exhale, she snapped her eyes open and with determination and confidence in her step, she followed Jughead deeper into the bar. They passed the pool table on their way and for a moment a small smirk appeared on her lips as she remembered the game they played there, both on the table and with their words. How long ago that seemed to be; how many things have changed since then.

_ A lot _ , was the answer,  _ but one thing stayed the same _ . Even though her fingers itched to do it, Betty didn’t lift her hand to find the ring that hung on the necklace around her neck, instead she just focused on the presence of the metal object against her skin, finding strange comfort in the hard metal pressing against the soft skin of her chest.

“Jones, wow, you’re on time, that’s a new one,” somebody from the long table (well, from the handful of mismatched tables pushed together to create a bigger one) said, bringing Betty’s attention fully back to the bar, letting the memory of the ring slowly simmer away at the back of her mind.

“It would be rude to be late, since I called the meeting,” Jughead answered as they reached the table.

If somebody asked, Betty could probably pinpoint the exact moment when everybody in the room noticed the three Shadowhunters that had entered along the High Warlock; the silence was so grave that one could probably hear a pin drop.

With some confidence still left in her, Betty allowed herself to scan the people around the table carefully.

Sweet Pea sat on the far right, nursing a bottle of beer in his hands, his fingers working on peeling the label off it so carefully that Betty would have believed him if he told her it was the most important job in the entire world. Betty was glad to see him there; even though he wasn’t the biggest fan of Shadowhunters, he’d have Jughead’s back no matter what and that meant that he was also going to have hers. 

Next to him was a pink-haired girl Betty recognised as the bartender from the night she met Jughead in the Wyrm - and if the three angrily looking scars on her neck were anything to go by, a werewolf. An older guy was seated to her left, the expression in his face serious and yet soft, and Betty couldn’t help herself but think that there was something about his face structure that reminded her of somebody she knew and it took her just a couple more seconds to realise all she had to do was to follow the line of his sight to figure out who it was. His eyes were hung on Archie and Betty didn’t need anybody to introduce Fred Andrews to her anymore.

Moving on, was another guy and even though his skin probably used to be brownish sometime in the past, the only thing Betty could see now was the stark paleness radiating off him.  _ A vampire, probably the leader as he seemed to be the only one at the table _ , Betty thought. Suddenly, she wanted to curse the Institute and Shadowhunters of New York in general for deciding that keeping professional relationships with Downworld factions was too much hassle.  _ How could she have forgotten to ask Jughead for a crash course in the leaders? _

Her brows furrowed, as she had reached the end of the table then. When Jughead told her that he had managed to get faeries to agree to a meeting, Betty expected them to send a messenger or a soldier or somebody of less importance; certainly not the  _ Seelie Queen.  _ Betty had met her once and although it was many years ago, she hadn’t changed a bit - her brown skin practically glowing, curly hair standing out freely and flowers, oh so many flowers, lying against her skin and in-between her curls so seamlessly one might think they were a part of her.

“Thought I smelt something sour here,” the pink-haired werewolf said, scrunching her nose as her eyes scrutinised their trio.

“Toni,” Jughead hissed, effectively silencing the girl, even though it earned him a nasty glare. “I’m glad you could all make it,” Jughead continued, his voice switching to a diplomatic mode seamlessly.

“You made it sound urgent,” the vampire shrugged.

“And it is. But first, let me introduce our guests,” Jughead said, motioning towards Betty and the rest. “This is Cheryl Blossom, Archie Andrews and Betty Cooper.”

Betty wished that there was a way to avoid the piercing gazes of the Downworlders in front of her, ones that weren’t bothered with hiding their hatred and resentment.

“Cooper?” the vampire spoke up again, the word leaving his mouth as if it was barely more than a spit. A chill ran down Betty’s spine and she could see Jughead tensing up in the corner of her eyes. 

“Fangs, don’t start -”

“Of course, I’m going to start Jones! Has your memory stopped serving or what? Don’t you remember what happened the last time we trusted somebody with that name? Because I sure as hell do and I do not intend on making the same mistake again,” Fangs spit angrily, shaking his head. The bottoms of his chair scraped the floor loudly as he pushed it back to get up from the table.

“Fangs, c’mon,” Jughead pleaded but the vampire just shook his head and continued walking away.

“A bit of help?” Jughead asked, aiming the question towards the rest of the table, but nobody seemed to be jumping on the opportunity. “Pea?”

“You know what I think about all of this Jug,” the younger warlock shook his head. 

Jughead sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose and Betty was instantly overcome with a sudden urge to hug him and tell him that everything was going to be fine. But before she could take a step towards him, Jughead’s hand dropped down. “Get him back and you can have anything from my apartment.”

Sweet Pea’s eyes twinkled. “Even that bottle of cuban rum from 1800?”

Jughead visibly rolled his eyes. “Yes, even that one. Now, please, get him back before he super-speeds away?”

Sweet Pea got up and although there was a frown on his face, Betty noticed the slight tug on the corners of his lips. Betty’s eyes lingered on him as he exited the room for a while before returning back to the rest of the Downworlders seated at the table. 

The air that filled the room was heavy already as they entered the bar and Fangs’ outburst made it even harder to breathe. Betty wanted to close her eyes and allow herself to tune everything out except for her breathing rhythm, but she knew better than that - she couldn’t let her guard down just like that in a room full of people that would probably rather see her dead only because of the name that she carried. 

It was a weird feeling as she rarely found herself on this side; sure, Downworlders weren’t usually the biggest fans of Nephilim and who could blame them when their race made sure to oppress them and view them as less for centuries, making having blood of demons running through their veins basically a crime, but this, this was different. Because in their eyes, she wasn’t just another random Nephilim, one that might have just simply looked unkindly in their direction or murmured a racial slur. No, she was a daughter of somebody who had tricked them into a trap, somebody who had cost their friends’ lives. Their hatred ran so much deeper and sadly, it was justified.

_ What was she thinking, agreeing to come here and attempt to persuade them to follow her into a battle against Hiram Lodge? What was she thinking, doing the exact same thing as her mother did and having no proof to offer that the results wouldn’t be the same? _

Betty felt her hands starting to shake, so she took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself, but the shuddering intake of the air did her no good. She felt all of the eyes that hadn’t already been on her quickly find her, piercing her with little sympathy.

Jughead turned to her and Betty could see the hesitation in his features, unsure if he should reach out to comfort her or if the move would just worsen everything. “Everything is alright, don’t worry,” he ended up whispering and sending an encouraging smile her way.

Two pairs of heavy footsteps followed his words, Sweet Pea entering the room with Fangs following right behind him.

“Thank you,” Jughead said, clear from his tone that he wasn’t about to put up with any more bullshit.

“So? What was so urgent that you had to call an emergency Downworld meeting for a Cooper?” Fangs asked.

Jughead looked at Betty, his eyebrows rising slightly to ask a question without actually saying it. Betty knew what it was; an invitation to talk, to explain. To make their point as his partner, to make them understand that she was nothing like her mother.

_ A deep breath. And another one. _

“I need your help to finally stop Hiram once and for all.”

Betty could not only hear a pin drop in the silence that had taken over the room, but she also could hear the wheels turning in the heads of the faction’s leaders and the blood flowing through their veins. It was almost palpable; thick and heavy, charged with electricity and power.

And all it took was one wrong move for the explosion to blow up.

“I’m sorry, what?” Fangs asked, his voice low and eyes throwing daggers.

“Just hear her -” Jughead started but Betty didn’t let him finish; her hand shooting up and landing on his upper arm, giving him a gentle squeeze.

“Look, I know you all have your doubts and rightfully so. If the tables were turned, I would be skeptical as well. You’ve already heard something like this before, coming from somebody who in your eyes is no different from me. But I’m not my mother and I need you to listen to me.” By the end, Betty’s tone bordelined a pleading one - she needed to calm down. She licked her lips before taking a deep breath in and continuing. “You’ve got to hear me out at least.”

“We don’t have to do anything like that,” Toni shook her head angrily. 

Betty shut her eyes, squeezing them tightly as she tried to find the right words. “Please, just give me five minutes and if you still don’t want to be any part of this, you’re free to leave.”

Somebody sighed heavily and Betty slowly dared to open her eyes to take a look at the faces in front of her. As expected, they were all full of skepticism and distrust. 

“What do you need our help for anyways? You’re Shadowhunters, you’re supposed to deal with shit like this, not us,” Fangs asked.

“I wouldn’t ask for your help if there was any other way,” Betty shook her head.  _ I wouldn’t risk putting any of you in danger when Hiram’s already after you _ . “The Institute is full of Hiram’s people, I can’t exactly start asking for help to take him down there.”

“Just let Betty explain,” Jughead said, inserting himself into the conversation. “You can all decline after that, but not before you have all the facts.”

Toni snickered at his words, rolling her eyes. “You would be the first one out of that door if you weren’t screwing her,” she snapped and Betty couldn’t even count how many times she felt air getting knocked out of her tonight, the number being too high already and they had barely even begun.

“Wow, that’s rich Jones,” Fangs laughed, the sound tearing into Betty’s flesh as thousands of knives.

“It’s not like that -” Jughead said as an attempt to defend them, but he didn’t get far.

“Oh, it's not? Then tell why can I smell her all over you?” Toni asked, lifting her hand to tap against her nose a few times. “This doesn’t lie.”

Jughead growled. “I’m not discussing this with you.”

Toni opened her mouth, a clever remark certainly on her lips already and just begging to be released, but thankfully, the Seelie Queen chose that moment to speak her mind, silencing the werewolf with one wave of her hand. “I can’t say that I’m pleased with you playing house with a Nephilim, there are more pressing issues that need to be discussed right now. Maybe your werewolf friend should step outside for a moment until she calms down and let the alpha do his duties.”

The Seelie Queen was probably the last person Betty expected to take their side, but still, the turn hadn’t been the most shocking one of the night.

“You’re not getting out of this conversation,” Toni said, piercing Jughead with a fierce look before getting up from her chair. 

Her eyes then dropped to the three Shadowhunters in front of her. Or no, scratch that, her eyes barely glazed over Betty and Archie, but lingered on Cheryl for a moment too long, running down her body shamelessly and without a little care of who would notice. A spark of mischief appeared in them, one that faintly reminded Betty of Jughead. 

Toni walked around the table and instead of just passing around them and leaving the bar, she headed straight towards Cheryl. “Care to keep me company?” 

Cheryl’s eyebrows shot up as she quickly and not so subtly checks out the girl in front of her and once a devilish smile appears on her lips, one that Betty had seen on her friend one too many times to be able to act oblivious to the meaning behind it, her entire posture drops from the soldiery stance to the more flirty relaxed version. “As long as you keep your paws of me, we won’t have a problem.”

Toni laughed out loud at that. “Oh, you’ll be begging me to not stop touching you, just you wait.”

Cheryl immediately retorted with a clever remark of her own, but Betty didn’t manage to catch enough of it to understand (which was probably for the best anyways). She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes as the two girls left the room - talk about double standards. But she didn’t let that distract her for long, her attention returning to the problem at hand quickly.

Sweet Pea tilted his head up a bit, giving her an encouraging nod. “Your five minutes are running.”

Betty gave him a thankful smile before turning to the rest of the Downworlders seated at the table and letting the words fall from her mouth, letting them be carried through the thick air directly to their ears, sinking deep underneath their skin where they couldn’t just shrug it off or ignore.

“I don’t need to explain to you what kind of monster Hiram Lodge is, since all of you certainly have more stories about that then you should. I also don’t need to explain to you why he needs to be stopped, because just getting through all of his crimes from this decade would keep us here all night. But what you need to hear is why it has to happen now; tomorrow at latest and why we need your help.”  _ A deep breath, you can do this. _ “As I said before, the Institute is sadly compromised, with people in the highest positions working with him.”  _ Another one _ . “People like the Head of the Institute and his wife or Hiram’s ex-wife.”  _ Another one, another one, another one. _

“What?” Jughead was the first to respond. “How-”

Betty didn’t turn to him, too afraid that his eyes would be full of worry and care, full of pity that would hit her like a ton of bricks. She couldn’t allow that; she needed to focus. “I’ve overheard a part of their conversation today - Hiram is planning something big for tomorrow.” A pause. “Something that will definitely include innocent Downworlders dying.” Another one, slightly longer.

“So please, even if you decide not to help, if you decide that you would rather hide and protect yourselves, it’s alright, but tell your people; make sure they all get to safety. Make sure they will be hidden and protected because there are no lengths Hiram won’t go through to achieve his goals. And since his goal is erasing everybody with demon blood running through their veins…”

She waved her hands around the air hopelessly, praying that desperate motion would do something to convey her thoughts when her words fell short. That something about the way her throat tightened and the last words were barely more than a whispered cry, a cry for attention, a cry for help, would hit them hard enough for them to put all of the differences between their races aside and  _ listen _ to her. Listen and act, listen and help, listen and make sure this injustice is stopped.

“We’ve all been burned once before by your kind,” the Seelie Queen started slowly after a moment of silence. “How do we know we can trust you?”

“Because Hiram Lodge isn’t attempting to destroy only your lives, he’s also trying to destroy mine. And I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to let him get away with it.”

“Why would he be destroying your life?” Fangs snickered. “It’s not like you are that important.”

The words might have stung worse than any of the ones he said before, but instead of letting it show, Betty just bit into her lips and lowered her gaze for a second, stealing a moment of precious time to compose herself. She couldn’t exactly address them with a shaky voice or tears welling up in her eyes, now could she?

“Because I have something he wants and I’m not planning on giving it to him,” Betty offered as an explanation. 

Even though her powers came from him, as nothing more than a part of some complex evil scheme, ultimately, they weren’t his - they were hers and hers alone. Hiram Lodge may have been the reason for why she had them but he sure as heaven wasn’t going to dictate how she should use them; especially not if that included murdering innocent Downworlders in cold blood. 

“Really? And what’s that?” the Seelie Queen asked, her voice still sweet and melodic, but hairs raised on the backs of Betty’s arms anyways, goosebumps running along the length of her spine. Sweet it might have been, but everybody knows sugar gets rotten way too easily.

“It’s not important,” Betty shook her head. She was a threat in their eyes already, who knows what they would think if they knew about her powers.

“But yet, according to you, Lodge would go as far as to destroy your life for it,” Fangs said slowly and Betty almost grunted audibly.

“If you wants us to consider helping you, you have to be open and honest with us,” the Seelie Queen added.

Betty shot a quick pleading look towards Sweet Pea, hoping that at least he would take her side, but sadly, her eyes apparently didn’t communicate the message well enough. “I’m going to take a stab here and guess it has something to do with the powers that the Tears of Wisdom gave you, right?”

There was a gasp coming from somebody seated at the table, followed by a hushed chatter, but Betty ignored all of that in favour of sending a nasty look towards the warlock seated at the table. Of course he would do that; what did she think, that they were friends? What made her come to that conclusion? The fact that he came with Jughead to save her? It didn’t matter; not when there was a fire of hatred and resentment burning deep in his veins, the death of his love at the hands of someone who she must have terribly resembled still fresh in his memory.

“Alright, you win,” Betty found herself saying, following her words with an exhausted sigh. This wasn’t working - she needed to persuade them about her cause and no half-truths and carefully picked words that played on their feelings and compassion would do that. No, she needed to give them the harsh truth; no sugar-coating or leaving out important details. Re-telling everything that had led her to this moment - was going to be hard, but if it resulted into an opportunity to save their lives; how could she say no?

So she reached for an empty chair, pulling it away from the table and dropping down onto its hard wooden surface.

And with a deep breath, she found the strength to begin, all the way back at the start.

***

Jughead wasn’t sure how much time had passed since Betty started talking, but he knew one thing - not once, anybody from the table dared to interrupt her. From his own experience he knew how captivating her storytelling could get and that once she got into her element, her voice had the power to command the entire room, but still, he could have never imagined the Downoworld Council sitting around this peacefully and just swallowing a word after a word that had left her mouth. 

Jughead would lie if he said that he himself wasn’t enchanted by the magic that Betty had created in the room, how she found managed to find the strength to capture all of their attentions and not let go of them, not even for a second. Her voice carried an unfathomable power, it held the ability to be stern and fierce when she needed them to listen, but then it could drop in a matter of seconds into a cloud of softness and care, ensuring that they not only listened, but also understood. 

_ She’d make an amazing leader _ , Jughead thought for a moment. He had experienced firsthand how important it was to be able to get the attention of people you’re addressing, how important it was to find a way to relate to them, to show them that you’re no different from them. And that’s exactly what Betty was doing right now, consciously or not.

And then, there was also the fact that she looked breathtakingly stunning. With the dim lights and an occasional neon sign from the bar’s wall being the only sources of lighting in the room, there were thousands of colours and shadows playing along her face, accentuating her features and creating the most beautiful images. Her blonde hair appeared to be shining, almost as if it was attempting to become another source of light. And her smile, the one that had rarely an opportunity to show itself during the somber conversation, that one didn’t have to attempt becoming another light source; it already was.

Jughead was so lost in the sight in front of him that he didn’t even realise Betty’s voice fading away and silence filling its space. It was only once somebody kicked into his leg underneath the table (that somebody presumably being Sweet Pea), that he snapped back to reality.

“I think we should all take a moment to just digest what Betty had shared with us,” Fred said, his voice the first to break the silence. A few hums followed, before Fred turned to address the two Shadowhunters. “If you could give us a moment.”

“Yeah, sure,” Betty nodded immediately. The both of them got up and left the table with a politeness that surely had been drilled into them since they could stand straight.

Jughead wanted to tell her how good she did and how proud of her he was; he wanted to wrap his hands around her and whisper sweet praises into her hair. He craved to run away from the bar that smelled of stale beer and one that had the floors covered with more sticky puddles than clean surfaces and just hide from the entire world in the comfort that his loft held, that they seemed to find on his balcony overlooking the New York or even in his living room, laying on the soft sofas with their bodies almost disappearing between the mountains of pillows. He dreamt of forgetting all the obstacles that stood in their way, of forgetting Hiram Lodge, of forgetting the centuries of racism and prejudice, of forgetting the harsh stance that the Nephilim held against the mixing of their races. He didn’t want any of that - he just wanted to be happy.

“So, what are we thinking?” Fred asked once Betty and Archie were out of earshot.

“How real is that threat, Jughead?” Fangs said, turning his attention to him. 

Both Jughead and Betty had agreed that it was necessary for her to speak and explain everything to the Downworld leaders, that if they were to go to fight side by side, she needed to earn their trust and the only way to do that was if they actually followed her and not him. So, he let her speak, not once stepping in or interrupting her story to add something or to make another point. After all, he trusted her; and since the leaders trusted him, this question was the only natural way of progression.

“Deathly,” Jughead sighed. “Look, I know you all are vary to trust Betty,  _ hell _ , you can’t imagine how hard it has been for me. But she’s nothing like her mother and if you gave her a chance, you’d all see it. She’s kind and caring and she had chosen lives of Downworlders over her own on numerous occasions, just proving time after time that they, the Nephilim, are evolving, are changing.”

“If what she had overheard is true and Hiram is really planning on making a move tomorrow, we need to be ready,” Fred said.

“You’ve known Hiram; is there anything you remember that might give us any sort of advantage?” Jughead asked.

Fred just shook his head. “Hiram had always been secretive; he didn’t just go around, telling his plans to everyone.”

“Not even you? Weren’t the two of you close?” Fangs frowned.

“We were, but I think he suspected long ago that my loyalties to him didn’t run as deep as he would have appreciated. He was known to plan ahead and play the long game, so the moment he started suspecting somebody was having second thoughts, the person was immediately out.”

“He definitely played the long game,” Jughead hummed. After all, not just anybody would be willing to wait for twenty years before trying to get their hands on their ultimate weapon.

Fangs growled. “I wish we took care of that man two decades ago.” 

“Everybody does, my dear friend,” Jughead sighed, allowing himself to be taken over by memories for a split second - oh, how different life would have been that way. Not laced with this incredible misery and pain that still creeped up on him from time to time, but instead full of lighthearted laughter and sunshine that his sister always seemed to attract. He wondered if he still would have met Betty, if they would have ran into each other somewhere and if they maybe would fall in love without having every step of it covered with obstacles, without having to deal with things that definitely out his division and way above Betty’s.

“You can definitely count on me and I’ll talk to the rest of the pack, see how many of the guys would be willing,” Fred said with a small smile and Jughead was overcome with a wave of gratefulness - he wasn’t lying to Betty when he told her that he couldn’t have imagined a better person to take over the New York’s wolf pack.

“Thank you,” Jughead smiled at him. “And make sure the rest of them is safe, alright?”

Fred just nodded and so Jughead moved his eyes to the next person.

“You’ll be the death of me Jones,” Fangs growled.

“Take this as your way of paying me back for all of the times I had to portal you around the city because you were stuck somewhere and the sun came up,” Jughead rolled his eyes. He might have pretended to be annoyed everytime Fangs called him with a desperation in his voice and he might have told him numerous times that he would just let him get fried next time, but both of them knew those were just empty threats.

“You can count with my people as soon as the sun sets,” Fangs nodded.

Jughead sighed happily; this was going well - if the Seelie Queen would offer her services as well, this would end up being the most productive and successful meeting of their council.

“Hiram Lodge poses no real threat to my realm,” she started and Jughead’s heart almost stopped. So much for this going well…

“And what about the faeries that aren’t hidden away there? What about the ones that keep visiting ours, about the ones who have friends and lives here? Are you just going to force them to return?” Fred asked, being the voice of reason as always.

“If that is what I need to do to protect them, then yes,” she nodded. A cold expression had settled on her face and Jughead had known her for long enough to know what it meant - there was little they could do now to change her opinion. But he sure as hell was going to still try.

“Josie, c’mon,” Jughead pleaded. He knew how much she hated being addressed by her name, how she preferred the title that allowed her to keep herself distanced from the matter, hiding behind it as if it was a protective shield. And even though his relationship with her had seen better days (or better centuries), some things never changed.

“Forsythe, don’t try to play me,” she shook her head. 

“I’m not,” Jughead quickly said, raising his hands in a defensive motion. “But if I seem to remember correctly, you still owe me a favour.”

Josie’s eyes narrowed and Jughead could swear that the flowers tangled in her hair turned away slightly, as if they wanted to hide from the fury and wrath of their queen. But that didn’t come; instead, she just sighed heavily and leaned back in her chair. “I would say I’m happy to help, but we both know I can’t lie,” she said afterwards. “I’ll send you ten warriors tomorrow at sunset.”

“Oh, so the protections I made for you a century and a half ago, that hadn’t needed refurbishments and hadn’t been penetrated once since are worth that? Ten men? You know I tend to undercharge, but this is too low even for me,” Jughead said. He knew he shouldn’t probably be pushing his luck and instead just be grateful for the offer, but if he was about to cash a favour he had been sitting on for a  _ fucking _ century and half, he was going all in.

“Expect fifteen warriors from me - one for every decade your wards have served me. Not a man more,” the Seelie Queen said with a resolution with her voice and Jughead would be foolish to try and push her more.

“Thank you,” he hummed, his heart happy for the small victory.

“If that’s all, I need to get back to my people,” Josie said.

Jughead pushed himself up from the chair, reaching over the table to shake her hand. “Thank you,” he said once again.

Josie just nodded, sparing one quick look towards the rest of the table before turning around and leaving with her guards in tow. 

Jughead moved his attention to Fangs next. “I’m glad you decided to stop acting like an idiot and listened.”

“Don’t make me regret it, Jones,” Fangs sighed, but his voice wasn’t completely cold. Fangs patted his shoulder lovingly as he walked passed him and Jughead knew that they would be fine, there was nothing to worry about.

“Fred, thank you for having my back,” Jughead said, turning his attention to the alpha at last.

“Somebody had to,” Fred shrugged. “Now allow me go find Toni and make sure the Blossom girl she dragged with her is still alive.”

“Actually,” Jughead said, raising his hand to stop Fred from leaving just yet. “Pea, please, go check on Toni and Cheryl. I’m fairly certain there’s a different Shadowhunter that requires Fred’s attention more urgently.”

Sweet Pea opened his mouth to protest but then promptly shut it and left without arguing. 

“Turns out, I should be the one thanking you,” Fred said slowly but his gaze wasn’t fixed on Jughead; no, he was staring at the door behind him, the one that separated them from the room that Betty and Archie left to.

“Just go and talk to him already,” Jughead said with a warm smile.

Fred didn’t need any more prompting than that and before Jughead had a chance to even blink, the man was gone and he was left alone.

He released a heavy sigh and rubbed his face in his palms; even though the meeting had gone way better than he expected it (well, except for the bumpy start), it still required too much energy from him, all while he wasn’t even the one in charge of it. And to just think that the fact that they have persuaded them to help still doesn’t mean that they are actually going to help… Jughead already felt pain pulsating in his head from exhaustion and there were still miles to go before all of this was over.

“Jug?”

His head snapped up, his eyes quickly opening up and locating the source of the voice. Betty stood by the entrance, leaning against the doorframe, watching him vigilantly and yet, her eyes still carried kindness and care.

“Hey,” Jughead answered, nodding his head slightly up in an inviting motion. 

Understanding the movement, Betty disconnected herself from the wall and walked over to him, finding her way into his embrace without a prompt or a question. 

There was a slight tremble to her body, one that would certainly go unnoticed if she hadn’t been pressed flush against his chest. Jughead didn’t need to ask for the cause, realising how exhausting and hard all of that must have been and how surely he wasn’t the only one haunted by the thoughts of what still awaited them. It seemed as if the world wanted them to suffer on purpose, throwing another obstacle or hardship at them as soon as they overcame the one before.

Jughead lowered his head and dropped a soft kiss on the top of Betty’s forehead. “You were so amazing.”

She chuckled lightly against his chest, sending small vibrations through his thick jacket, through his skin and bones, directly into his heart, making it flutter and jump to the melody of her laugh. His brain short-circuited and suddenly all words he knew seemed to just evaporate, leaving him gasping for ways to describe his thoughts, to voice his feelings. It was a weird feeling - he could feel the blood pumping in his veins and yet he couldn’t move a finger, he could feel the stale air entering his lungs with every inhale and yet he felt like drowning, he could feel his magic bubbling underneath his skin with excitement and passion and yet it didn’t beg to be let out. Instead it simmered, it raised the hairs at the back of his neck, it sent waves full of sensation and happiness through his body, each one hitting him harder and stronger than the previous, each one leaving him a bit more breathless and a bit more lost in the never-ending flow of emotions. 

Jughead had lived for centuries and there was little that was still unknown to him, a little that he hadn’t had a chance to explore or try out. But this feeling, the one that reminded him of both the wildness of a free fall and the calmness of a lazy morning, this feeling wasn’t something he had experienced before. And that both terrified and excited the life out of him.

“After all of this shit is over,” he started gently, his voice barely above a whisper, “I promise to show you the world.”

Betty lifted her head up, her eyes full of hope and joy as they met his. “I can’t wait.”

And if Jughead could have had it his way, they would have stayed in that moment forever, hidden away from the horrors that tomorrow held.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there are no words to describe how much i love every single one of you for supporting this story, for leaving comments and kudos and reblogs and everything. seriously, y'all are amazing. 💕 and so is maggie, the best beta i could ask for.
> 
> as always, see you on sunday 😉 i know that my opinion is a bit biased, but the upcoming chapters (along with this one) are some of my favourites.


	21. chapter xxi

To say that a somber mood had taken over the Institute would be an understatement. 

Ever since morning, the entire building was eerily quiet; hushed whispers replaced the usual loud chatter of the Shadowhunters in the Ops Centre, no clattering of swords or heavy panting originated in the training room. Even most of the machines were silent - as if the demons of New York City sensed the shift in power that was about to happen and caved in, hiding away to see which way the scale would end up tilting.

Under any other circumstances, a slow day like this one would be full of catching up on unfinished paperwork and relaxing with friends. But the pile of paperwork on Betty’s desk had been left untouched for days already and all three of them were too nervous to be actually able to relax and enjoy the rare opportunity of getting a break.

Betty contemplated calling Jughead more times than she would admit - be it out of stress, out of anxiety or even out of plain boredom. But she couldn’t do that - they agreed that they’d wait until sunset before meeting, too afraid that the Gargoyles in the Institute would be on a high alert. They couldn’t risk anything, not when they were this close.

So, the next best thing Betty could come up with to pass the time was diving into reading in the library, but not even the books could distract her well enough and after a few hours she realised that she’d been reading the same page over and over, whilst the letters on the paper kept dancing around in front of her eyes, making fun of her futile attempts at distracting herself. 

This wasn’t working - nothing was working. 

She wasn’t built for sitting around and waiting; she needed something to do otherwise her thoughts would just end up driving her crazy. Or maybe they would eat her alive, who knew which way would be the most torturous?

There was only one place that would allow her to turn off her brain in the way that she currently needed and Betty’s body apparently realised that sooner than her mind came to that conclusion, as she didn’t even notice she was heading to the training room until she came to a stop in the middle of it, surrounded by nothing but emptiness and air so heavy, that she was surprised it was still breathable. However, the heaviness carried a sense of familiarity with it, one that reminded her of endless training sessions with Archie after which both of them were left lying on the floor and gasping for breath, and of the never-ending competitions with Cheryl, both of them practising their aim side by side for long hours, the silence between them comfortable and only broken by the swooshing sounds of their weapons cutting through the air. But it also reminded her of Veronica, of the many times their days ended right here, facing each other as Betty went over fighting techniques, teaching the new Shadowhunter everything she knew. 

Would that come to bite her in the ass? What will she do if she comes to face Veronica in a battle? Will she be able to raise her blade against her or throw a knife in her direction? And what if the person at the other side won’t be her newly-made friend, but her brother-in-law? Or her sister?

A drop of blood hit the floor, the otherwise barely audible sound ringing in Betty’s ears so loudly that she wouldn’t be able to tell it apart from a hammer breaking a wall. Her eyes fell down to examine the source of bleeding, unsurprisingly ending their search on her palm. But it wasn't her nails that cut her skin this time, no the small throwing knife did the job just fine.

Betty wiped the blood off the blade with a small sigh before throwing it at target and watching its tip sink into the middle of the wooden circle. She picked up another one, quickly inspecting the blade before sending it flying across the room. It landed next to the first one, the ends of their handles hitting each other as the knife vibrated with the residual energy.

When did her life become this?

When did her life stop being full of routine patrols and boring missions, of hunting demons and always upholding the law to the dot? When did it have time to become so messed up, barely a shell of what it once used to be?

Third knife sunk into the target with a soft thud.

Fear and anxiety that had been eating her up ever since they left the Whyte Wyrm yesterday only seemed to intensify with every breath she took. What was about to happen tonight? Would they manage to get to Hiram before he would have a chance to launch his attack, before he would cause the deaths of more innocent Downworlders? 

Maybe she should have agreed to his proposal; maybe she should have joined him; maybe it would have stopped the pointless deaths and suffering. Maybe if she got close enough, she could - 

_ What? Could she really kill him? _

The knife’s blade sunk into the corner of the target, missing the bullseye by a good few inches.

When she discussed their plan with Jughead, it seemed clear enough.  _ Stop Hiram Lodge. _ But up until now, she didn’t really think about what it would entail. Would she bringing him back to the Institute and hand him over to the Clave, risking the possibility of somebody breaking him free? There were too many compromised Shadowhunters in the Institute and probably even more in Riverdale. Could they risk relying on the justice system and hope that everything would just work out?

Or was the only way they could ever be sure that his entire operation was finally dismantled if Hiram Lodge was no more? Was death really the best and the only option, and if so, could Betty do it? Hiram Lodge screwed up her life in many ways, from taking her against her will, through forcing those stupid powers onto her, the ones she never asked for in the first place, all the way to that nasty wound that one of his Gargoyles’ knives caused on her thigh, the one that although was healed by a warlock still tingled with residual pain every time it rained. He messed up her life, that was true - but was she the one that deserved to get the kill? Or did the right belong to a faceless Downworlder, whose friends and family died under his hands, or to Jughead, who suffered so much because of that man, or maybe even to Archie or Cheryl, for the hell he put the ones close to them through?

Another knife flew, but Betty’s hands were trembling and it scraped the wall instead of sinking into the wooden target.

A shaky breath left her lips - she wasn’t equipped for this. No, she was just a regular Shadowhunter, one that knew her job was to follow the orders and fall into the line. In no way, shape or form was she qualified to lead people into battle, to drag innocent Downworlders onto a battlefield. If something was to happen, if something was to go wrong, all of those deaths would be on her consciousness - how would she handle that? How would she live with herself knowing that she put them in harm's way? That if it weren’t for her, none of them would be anywhere near that mess, that they would all be safe and sound?

Wasn’t there anybody else, somebody more skilled, more experienced, better? Why did it have to be her? It wasn’t like she held any important position, it wasn’t like she had any particularly special skill sets or abilities that would make people point at her and say -  _ we want you to lead us, we trust you.  _ She wasn’t a Head of the Institute, she wasn’t a diplomat or a politician from the Clave. She was just her, Betty Cooper; a daughter of an ex-Gargoyle; a warrior who worked restlessly all her life, obediently following every rule and command; a soldier who never dared to step out of the line or disobey. 

So, what qualified her to lead them, to lead the resistance, to give out hope?

It may have been the burning flame in her chest, eager for a change, it may have been the dream of a better and safer tomorrow, it may have been the undying need to restore her family name, to correct her mother’s mistake. Or maybe, it maybe, it was much more simple than that.

Maybe, she just wanted the world to be a better place and that was simply enough. A place where everybody would be a bit more free to do whatever they desired and a bit less terrified of the uncertainties that the future held. Where everybody could follow their hearts; because, at the end of the day, stripped down of all high and mighty reasons, that was all she was doing.

The next knife hit the dead center, sinking into the target between the first two.

_ Following her heart. _

“I thought I’d find you here,” Archie’s gentle voice snapped her out of her thoughts. 

Betty threw the last knife that was in her hand, the blade flying straight and true and even though she didn’t need to watch it, she wasn’t able to tear her gaze away, not until the silver weapon hit the target and the vibrations traveled from its tip to the bottom of the handle, clinking against the other knives that surrounded it. Only once the ringing sound completely died out, Betty dragged her eyes away from the target and settled onto Archie.

“How are you feeling?” he asked carefully.

“Ready,” Betty said.

The word didn’t taste like a lie on her tongue; not anymore.

***

A storm was nearby and Betty could almost feel the electricity cracking around her, the charged air tingling at her skin and sending shivers down her spine. There was a certain degree of nervousness flowing in her veins as she made her way through the dark streets of New York that night, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her leather jacket and yet, her fingers still trembling from the cold. _Or was it not caused by the temperature?_

Jughead had texted her the address of his safe house earlier and even though she memorised it meticulously, she still took out her phone to see if she was in the right place as she stopped in front of a run-down apartment building. She could hear the sound of TV coming from one of the windows and a loud screaming match that made her wince from the another. Her gaze slowly scanned all of them, lingering on the sight of a very-in-love looking couple in on the second floor, before she snapped out of it and approached the entrance.

An unlock rune worked wonders and in next to no time, she was in the elevator, her leg nervously bouncing as the numbers on the small display slowly increased. Her eyes didn’t leave it for a second; not until with the number stopped on a  _ seven _ and the doors opened with a small cliink.

The hallway was empty, except for one door and Betty didn’t hesitate, heading straight for it. She tried her unlock rune once again, but this time, it did little but tingle with golden glow and disintegrate in the air. Of course there would be magical protections on his safe house, ones that would prevent Nephilim from breaking in. 

Betty’s brows furrowed for a few seconds, confused about what to do now. Jughead hadn’t given her a key or any instructions on how to enter, so what should she do now?

_ Could it maybe be that simple…? _

She tentatively reached for the doorknob. A faint tingle accompanied by a cracking sound ran along the lengths of her fingers, presumably the magic’s reaction to disturbance in wards. But it didn’t sting or burn, it didn’t fight against her presence. Instead, it welcomed it her, warmth soothing her frostbitten fingers.

Encouraged by the magic’s positive reaction, there was nothing stopping Betty from grabbing the doorknob and twisting it in her palm. And just like that, with a dragging creak, the door opened for her.

Had the circumstances been any different, she probably would have stopped to wonder why the protective magic reacted that way to her, why it not only allowed her in, but practically welcomed her with an open embrace. She would have gone back to that unfinished thought Jughead started voicing the other night, when he wondered out loud how come that his magic never notified him of Betty’s presence. And maybe she didn’t really need to think about any of that, maybe a part of her already knew the answer to all of those questions. To why Jughead’s magic, something that is such an inseparable part of him like the runes that litter her skin are of her, accepted her without any hesitation.

But as she stepped foot into the dark apartment, it didn’t feel right to let her mind wander, to allow herself to get distracted. No, she was here on a mission, one that was too important and dangerous for her to slip up, in any way.

It was clear that nobody had lived in the apartment for quite some time; the furniture was covered by huge sheets of fabric, ones that had a layer of dust settled on the top. Betty’s eyes, enhanced with the night vision rune she had applied earlier that evening, scanned the whole room, jumping from one dark corner to another until they landed on the reason she came here.

A tall cage towered in by one of the walls and in it, limp on the ground, laid a body.

Betty crossed the room, careful not to bump into anything until the only thing that separated her from the person on the ground were the thick metallic bars. “Mantle,” Betty called out, her voice stern and strong.

Reginald jumped at the sound of his name, his head snapping up immediately. In the darkness and without a night vision rune, it probably took him a while to focus his eyes on the figure in front of him, but Betty could pinpoint the exact second when it happened; a small gasp left his lips, quickly followed by a pointed laughter. His head fell back with it and he dragged his hands across his face before his bloodshot eyes found hers once again.

“Got tired of playing around with that Downworld scum?” he asked, his voice laced with mockery and hatred. 

Blood in Betty’s veins went from zero to boiling in a matter of seconds, almost as fast as it took for her nails to find the skin of her palms and pierce through it.  _ Keep a cool head, don’t let your emotions bleed through. _

“Can you get me to Hiram?” Betty asked instead of answering his question. Even covered by a blanket of shadows, ones that hid her face from Mantle’s prying eyes, she didn’t trust herself to lie; too afraid of her voice wavering or breaking, giving away her real intentions.

“Depends,” Reginald hummed.

Betty’s eyebrow shot up. “On?”

“Whether I can believe you,” he said, his tone deadly serious.

Betty let her eyes fall closed, rolling the answer a few times in her mouth before letting it out. It tasted bitter and made her stomach want to turn upside down in disgust. Nevertheless, she pushed the words out. “When I used my powers- to stop you- he…” she swallowed, but her mouth was dry and the stale air just scraped at the back of her throat. Even the possibility of receiving a negative reaction, of being seen as a twisted monster scared the life out of her.

She tried again. “Hiram was right. Nobody understands and what they don’t understand, they fear.” Another attempt at swallowing, but the bitter taste had long made its way into her flesh and nothing Betty did could rid her of it. “I just want- I just need somebody to understand.” A shuddering breath left her lips. “To accept me.”

And even though the words were painful to let out, what was even harder was to accept that there still was a slight possibility of that lie becoming the truth, becoming reality. Jughead and Archie’s reactions might have been positive, but what about others finding out? What will go through the minds of people who have never met her, who have heard of her powers only through gossip and whispered half-truths? Will they understand or will they hate her? Will they accept her or will she forever be faced with looks of disgust and fear?

Reginald hummed and in the whirlwind of her thoughts, even that small sound was enough to pull her out. “Once again, Hiram was right.”

A small rock fell of Betty’s heart, but it didn’t land too far; instead, it settled in her stomach, the new weight making her gut want to curl up painfully. She did her best to ignore it as she drew an unlock rune on the bar’s, feeling the tingle of magic subsiding as the door creaked open.

Reginald cracked his knuckles and stretched probably all of his muscles while getting up from the floor, the process excruciatingly slow. Betty’s leg felt jittery, wanting desperately to bounce as she waited for the Gargoyle to finally get out, to finally help her, to finally do something.

Once finally on his feet, he raked his eyes over her, ending up lingering on the stele still in her hand. “May I?” he asked.

Betty’s brows furrowed with hesitation and mistrust, but she handled the artefact over without a word.

“Thank you,” he said. He ran the glowing tip against his skin, drawing runes with practised precision.  _ Stamina, nourishment, iratze, night vision. _

“How are you going to get in contact with him?” Betty asked as she waited.

Reginald chuckled lightly and instead of answering, he lifted up the stele to his neck and started outlining the V-shaped rune that was etched on his skin there, the Gargoyle rune. It flared red instead of the regular soft golden glow, the skin underneath it beaming with irritation, but not a muscle flinched on his face.

Betty’s eyes narrowed and she flexed her fingers by her side, itching to reach for a seraph blade or a knife, itching to curl into a fist and wipe that smug look of calmness of his face. But she couldn’t; she couldn’t screw this up by giving into her emotions.

“Alright, let’s get going,” he hummed after a few seconds, stepping out from behind the bars and walking past Betty, towards the exit.

She caught up to him immediately. “And where are we going?”

“To Hiram,” Reginald answered nonchalantly.

“So you know where he is,” Betty wondered out loud.

“I can track him with this,” he said, tapping his finger against the prominent rune on his neck a few times, “we’re all connected to him.”

There was another question on the tip of Betty’s tongue as they got into the elevator, but once the doors closed behind them, the confined space felt too small for the words to be said aloud. And something told her that she’d definitely need fresh air after his lips would mutter the answer.

So she just ended up biting her lip and letting silence settle around them, silence that was full of dread and anticipation, but one that was still preferred to the horrors his words might hold.

A light drizzle started falling outside at some point while they were in the apartment, the cold droplets finding their way behind Betty’s collar as soon as she stepped out of the safety of the building. And yet, not even the freezing sensation running down her spine was enough to put out the fire that burned inside her; the fire of a fear of the unknown, of what was to come once they reached their destination, of what tonight would turn out to hold.

She kept her eyes trained on Reginald’s back, following his every movement meticulously and only once she was a hundred percent sure that he wasn’t going to turn around and look at her, her hand dared to slip up, her fingers tightly squeezing the heavy metal that hung around her neck through her wet sweatshirt.

Deep breaths;  _ this was it. _

***

The walk seemed to drag on for hours and by the time they finally came to a stop nearby old rail tracks, Betty found herself reaching for her stele and activating a stamina rune. Her feet hurt and she was positively drenched, as somewhere along the way the light drizzle turned to the heavy storm that she anticipated since the moment she left the Institute.

“Where are we?” Betty asked. She squirmed her eyes to try to make out the buildings around her, but even with the night vision rune still active, the heavy downpour covered the world in a hazy blanket; see-through to some extent, but the further you looked, the more the shapes blurred, becoming barely more than a mess of lights and shadows. A faint red neon glow nearby caught her attention, but her view was obscured by buildings, so no matter how hard she tried, there was little she could do now, other than hope that Jughead would make sure everything was ready.

“My, my, are my eyes playing tricks on me or is that really Elizabeth Cooper standing next to you, Reginald?” Even with the heavy pounding of the rain everywhere around her, Hiram Lodge’s voice carried through the air effortlessly, as if there was no noise or obstacle standing in its way.

Betty turned around immediately, her eyes falling onto the man himself, followed by a sea of darkness, each wave of it weaponised to teeth and and a cold look of death hidden behind their eyes. She was pretty sure a tiny gasp left her mouth as she took in their numbers; even with all of the help that the Downworlders provided, they would still be outnumbered.  _ She dragged them into this mess, she put them onto a death row… _

“Betty,” a small voice whispered, the sound almost drowned out by the water pouring from the sky. But Betty’s ears still caught it and it was all the push she needed to take a better look at the lines of Gargoyles behind Hiram’s back; skipping from one empty face to another, until they landed on the one that stood out, the warmth in the pool of ice.  _ Veronica. _

But the look at Veronica’s face changed quickly, from relief at seeing her friend to a frown forming on her lips as her eyes dropped down and caught on Betty’s hands. Betty copied the movement, her eyes finding Veronica’s hands and her heart plummeting in her chest once she did - a heavy pair of handcuffs hanging off her wrists, the skin underneath them red and irritated. 

Betty didn’t need anybody to explain to her what the situation must have looked like in her friend’s eyes - Betty standing there freely and seemingly acceptingly, whilst she had been dragged into her father’s evil schemes but still fought against her his twisted ideas. The pain and hurt on her face were almost palpable and Betty wanted to scream out that it isn’t what it looks like, that there wasn’t a single cell in her body that would even consider working with the devil himself, but she couldn’t do that. So, she just averted her gaze and bit into her lip, her heart almost breaking as she imagined the thoughts that must have filled Veronica’s mind.  _ She’d explain everything, once all of this would be over. _

“I take it that you reconsidered my proposal?” Hiram asked, walking towards Betty in a confident stride.

She squared her shoulders automatically and straightened her back; the soldier in her coming out to protect the real her without even Betty having to ask for it.

“I did,” she nodded and Hiram's face beamed with a blinding smile.

“I am so happy to hear that, Elizabeth,” he said as he placed his hand on her shoulder - Betty clenched her teeth and tried her best not to flinch at the contact. “You and my daughter are destined for greatness. I’d be such a shame if your talents went down the drain as guinea pigs for the Clave, or worse, in a cell in Riverdale, so they could keep a close eye on you.”

“It really would,” Betty nodded slightly and just prayed that her face or voice wouldn’t betray her, that they wouldn’t let Hiram know how much she feared that his words may come true.

“I need young and fierce warriors exactly like you in my lines and as much as I’d like to discuss your opinions on various issues, there are more pressing matters we need to attend to right now,” Hiram said. He squeezed Betty’s shoulder one last time before turning around and facing his army. “For way too long we allowed this plague, this tumour grow and infect our city, spreading the darkness and polluting our air with their demonic presence. But no more!”

Betty’s skin clawed at his words, her stomach grumbling anxiously.

“No, tonight, we will cleanse the world of that dirt, we are going to take the first step in restoring it to its former glory and pureness!”

The crowd cheered, the loud noise rippling through the air and then also through her chest, almost as if it was trying to rip her heart out.

“Those creatures are unnatural, they are sick and by putting them down, we’re doing them a favour!”

Agreeing murmurs reached Betty’s ears and all she could do was swallow emptily, the sour taste lingering in her mouth. All of this was too screwed up, talking about real and innocent people as if they were barely more than some uncontrollable animals, dogs to be sent to their deaths -  _ wolves. _ He’s going after  _ werewolves _ .

Breath got sucked from Betty’s lungs at the realisation, memory of the looks Toni shared with Cheryl, memory of Fred’s kind eyes and supportive smile, memory of Jughead’s kind words about Pop, memory of Ricky’s broken cries; all of them flooding her mind in one instant, almost making her knees buckle.  _ If they don’t stop him - _

“Let’s give them what they deserve!” Hiram’s words echoed through the air and were followed by excited screams and shouts of Gargoyles, as they charged forward, the sea of black breaking out from the damn and flowing out in unstoppable waves.

But Betty found herself rooted to the spot; unable to move her legs, frozen with the picture of all of the innocent Downworlders that were about to lose their lives because of one tyrant. They didn’t deserve this, nobody did.

Somebody’s shoulder bumped into her, throwing her both of her thoughts and off balance, making her stumble and get carried away by the stream of bodies rushing towards the battlefield, her black leather jacket fitting amongst them a bit too easily for her liking. 

_ Please, Jughead, make it here on time, please, don’t allow anybody to lose their life. _

A lightning struck down somewhere over New York, lighting up the sky for a split second before a loud thunder followed, the noise overpowering the shouts of Gargoyles for a moment.

But as the thunder passed, the horrifyingly enthusiastic screams weren’t the only ones to bounce off the unstoppingly falling raindrops. Blades brought against each other were ringing, hissing screeches were leaving dozens of throats, paws were tapping through puddles and mud, air was glowing with swooshing light streaks. 

Betty could almost see the scene unravelling in front of her eyes even without having to turn the corner and actually see it; and yet, she found herself breathless at the display of power that the Downworlders fighting against the source of hatred and oppression, fighting for their freedom and lives, fighting for  _ justice _ , held. Pride swelled in her heart, along with happiness and for a moment, she almost forgot that by no means does this meant that the fight was won. All that this meant, was that Jughead successfully managed to track her and move all of the people that agreed to help there in time.

Her eyes roamed over the mess of bodies in an attempt to locate his and she didn’t need to look for long; the glittering glow of his magic, the gold so deep that if she didn’t know better, she’d describe it as a fiery red, was unmistakable. She’d recognise it anywhere, there was no questioning it.

Their eyes connected for a split second and Betty found herself wishing so desperately that her grasp on her powers would be great enough for her to slow that second down and let the moment drag on forever; to stop the cold rain from falling to the ground, to stop the Gargoyles from raising their weapons, to stop all of this madness and mess from escalating any further. She knew the feeling that was tugging at her heart by now already - it was the selfishness burning bright in her chest, screaming at her  _ listen to me, give yourself to me, follow me _ . 

But no matter how much she craved to simply give into that, no matter how much she wanted to finally throw all caution to the wind and let herself feel and fall, now was really not the time for it. So she just allowed herself to hold his gaze for a moment longer, at least while she reached down and picked out a handful of knives from her holsters, throwing the first one in the direction of a Gargoyle standing closest to her, and only tearing her eyes away from Jughead’s when her target hit the ground, the knife long sunk deeply in the side of his neck.

Fighting was something that she had been doing her whole life; so there was no surprise, that once she allowed herself to fully immerse into the irregular rhythm of the movements, her mind finally stopped working and let her body take completely over. 

A throw there, a stab here, then duck away from somebody’s attack and launch counter-attack of her own.

Everything about it was familiar - the rush of adrenaline flowing through her veins, the soft burn of her muscles as they stretched, the faint buzzing at the back of her mind that kept her on high alert - and at the same time, everything about it felt completely different and new. A vampire sped to her side from time to time, diverting the attention of Gargoyles to himself and with it, giving Betty an opening to take them down. A werewolf jumped at a woman that sneaked up on her from behind, her blade mere inches from piercing through Betty’s back before being tackled down by the huge fuzzy creature. A Gargoyle next to her tripped on a root, one that seemingly appeared out of nowhere in the middle of asphalted street, but Betty knew better as her eyes locked with a seelie knight fighting a few meters away. Golden sparkles twinkled around her, embracing her in a protective and caring manner. She had never fought like this before; she had never fought on the same side as the Downworlders did. All of those little acts of help, they weren’t just a simple attacks, no, they were so much more - they weren’t just fighting on the same side, they were fighting together, bound by the same beliefs and goals. Bound by  _ trust _ .

A flame of hope ignited in Betty’s chest, one for the brighter and more accepting future, one where hatred and prejudices would be long erased and all of the Shadow World would be united.

And maybe, that future was too many years away and maybe it wasn’t even possible, a dream too big and crazy. But if even a sliver of it were to come true, it would be because of today - because of this. 

_ Because of her. _

Her heart stopped for a beat at that thought and with it, the time did so as well.

Betty knew she should move quickly, take out as many Gargoyles as possible, but instead, she found herself standing still, taking in a deep breath and a soft smile spreading across her lips, one that blossomed in her heart.

Tonight wasn’t just about taking down Hiram and taking a huge step to stop the hatred and oppression. No, it was also about coming together and looking past their differences, because of a common goal.

Her eyes raked through the crowd, unsure of what they were looking for until the fell on Veronica, still with the handcuffs on, hidden away at the side of the battlefield. Betty’s legs started moving as on a cue, tentative steps turning into a run almost immediately, the need to get to her friend pushing her forward.

She wasn’t sure what to do once she reached her, she still didn’t know how her powers worked properly, how she was sometimes able to pull Jughead with her and sometimes keep him as frozen as the rest of the world. She supposed now was as good of a time to figure out - although she’d be using a different subject. 

Carefully, she reached towards her friend, gently placing her palm against her cheek, her thumb caressing her skin softly, leaving a smear of blood at its wake. She hoped that the care and love for her friend would carry through that touch and bring Veronica awake, melt the spell that her powers put on her.

And Betty wasn’t sure whether it was just their lucky day or what exactly she had done, because Veronica’s eyes fluttered slowly and a slow exhale left her lips as she slowly came to her senses.

“How could you-” Veronica started, but the question died on her lips. Betty wasn’t quite sure what caused it - if it was the caring look her face surely held, or the soft touch of Betty’s palm against her cheek, or maybe the frozen battlefield behind Betty’s back.

“I’d never,” Betty shook her head with the answer. “You know I could never do anything like that.”

Veronica took in a sharp breath. “I know, I know… I just panicked,” she explained and it was probably only then that she fully took in their surroundings, her jaw falling down. “What is happening?” she asked. Her eyes lingered at the battlefield for a few seconds before dragging towards Betty’s face and another, this time much softer, question slipped her mouth. “Are you doing it?”

“Yeah,” Betty nodded slightly, “but I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to hold it.”

Veronica looked away from her, her eyes carefully taking in all of the people in front of them, until the look in them changed from simple observation into a one that Betty would describe as a bewilderment.

“I think I might have an idea,” Veronica whispered. “Get me out of these?”

Betty didn’t need to be asked twice; she quickly pulled out her stele and drew a small unlock rune on the handcuffs that hung off her friend’s wrists, the metal cracking open with an audible thump. She rubbed her wrists a few times, her skin irritated and covered in red marks, before she reached into her pocket for a stele of her own.

“I saw this rune and I think it should be able to knock them out for the time being - I can show it to you so we can cover twice as many of them,” Veronica said.

Betty nodded and they quickly walked to the nearest Gargoyle. Veronica grasped him and was about to start to draw the rune at the back of his neck, right next to the V-shaped one all of Hiram’s followers bore on their necks. Betty’s eyes lingered on that one and suddenly, an idea dawned on her, remembering the Reginald’s words about the rune. 

_ We’re all connect to Hiram through it _ .

“Wait, I think have an idea,” Betty said, raising her arm to stop Veronica from drawing the rune. “We need to find you father.”

Veronica’s eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t argue, instead, her eyes quickly roamed around the mess of bodies that surrounded them. Betty’s heartbeat started picking up speed with every passing second and ringing in her ears was intensifying. The amount of time she could go without blinking kept shortening, the sides of her vision getting blurrier with every second.

“There he is!” Veronica exclaimed suddenly, pointing her finger to where his head towered over others, frozen in a moment in a battle with a werewolf. Veronica was already grabbing Betty’s hand and dragging her towards him, but Betty’s world was spinning and her legs betrayed her, sending her plummeting down to the ground, the fall accompanied by Veronica’s worried scream.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry,” Betty said, hoping that the words really came out, because she couldn’t really hear anything through the high-pitched ringing in her ears.  _ Focus, Betty, focus, you can hold it for a bit longer. _

Veronica’s arm pulled out and as Betty leaned against her friend’s side, a sudden wave of nostalgia overcame her, remembering the last time she and Veronica ended up being surrounded by Gargoyles and she had to lean on her for support, just moments after Jason and Polly’s wedding. A memory that had turned sour in her mind, not only because of the kidnapping that followed, but also because of the newlyweds’ betrayal. Even though she hadn’t seen them tonight, she was sure they were around.

“V, listen to me,” Betty breathed out, the words scraping at the back of her throat. Waves of exhaustion were crashing against her body and she just wanted to tumble back to the ground and give in, the strain that her powers were putting on her too much to handle. “Leave me here, I’m just slowing you down. Get to Hiram and draw the rune on top of his Gargoyle rune and if we’re lucky, it’ll take out all of them,” Betty said, explaining her plan quickly.

Even with her sight being completely blurry and her head threatening to burst, Betty could see the unwillingness in her friend’s face, how she didn’t want to let her alone.

“Go,” Betty urged her, pushing herself away from Veronica’s support. Her body wavered, but she managed not to fall, her feet somehow finding steadiness. “I’ll hold this for you for as long as possible, but you’ve got to go.”

Her voice must have conveyed the urgency well, because Veronica gave her a little nod before she finally turned around and started to quickly make her way through the mass of bodies that separated her from her father.

Betty let her eyes fall closed and lungs get filled with humid air, taking in deep and relaxing breaths while trying her hardest to stay focused. She had to buy Veronica as much time as possible, so what did it matter if her head would combust from the pain or if her ears would bleed from screeching? If they managed to do this, if it worked out, they’d take care of all of the marked Gargoyles, they would save so many lives...

She didn’t need to open her eyes to feel the world spinning around her, tilting off balance and trying to throw her down. If she were a bit stronger, she probably would be able to withstand it; but power and willingness seemed to escape her body with every exhale and it didn’t take long for her knees to buckle once again.

_ Jughead, focus on Jughead,  _ she told herself.  _ Focus on his gentle laugh and on his kind smile. Focus on the blue of his eyes, on the way his skin wrinkles around them as he laughs. Focus on the sound of his voice, focus on the wisdom it never fails to carry. Focus on the way his fingers feel against your skin, caressing, tingling, the cold rings in stark contrast to his burning touch. Focus on his magic, on the warmth and safety it carries, on its indescribable power. _

Betty let her mind run wild and her heart flutter, beating frantically against her ribcage. The whole world was crumbling around her and the only lifeline offered to her was a faint memory of cupping Jughead’s cheek in the palm of her hand, when the rain around them froze in the same way as it did now, on a night that seemed such a long time ago even though barely a few days have passed since.

When, in the midst of all of this madness, she felt nothing but pure happiness filling her up. When she felt more hopeful than ever before.

In the end, Betty wasn’t sure what was the last straw that caused her focus to finally slip away - but it did and as the first raindrop hit her face, she forced her eyes to open, well-aware of the danger all around her.

But as the first of the raindrops hit the ground, dozens of bodies did as well, all of them bearing the tell-tale V-shaped rune on their necks.

The sounds of battle seized and silence took over; and in that silence, confusion blossomed. 

But nothing apart from relief washed over Betty and she finally allowed her body to relax, laying down on the wet ground, her ponytail in a puddle, but nothing could make her care. Not when all around her bodies of unconscious Gargoyles littered the ground and the rest of them, the ones whose necks were bare of the connecting rune standing and surrendering, suddenly outnumbered by the Downworlders. 

There would be casualties, there would be deaths of innocent Downworlders that would end up haunting her consciousness, there would come a moment where she will have to come face-to-face with the ones that betrayed them, that betrayed everything Shadowhunters stood for; but not now. She couldn’t deal with those thoughts now, couldn’t just let the problems of future overshadow what was happening in present.

Because, right now, they won. And that was all that mattered.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly, a part of me still doesn't believe we've made it this far... thank you all for your support and love, for your comments that never fail to make me smile. 💕 and thanks to maggie for betaing and continually flailing over the chapters. y'all are stars. ✨
> 
> love ya and i can't wait to see you on thursday 💕


	22. chapter xxii

Betty didn’t suppose that she had ever seen the Institute so full of people, both Clave officials and Gargoyle prisoners. 

It didn’t take long for the word of what had gone down in New York, of the massive dismantling of Hiram Lodge’s crazy empire, one that she had orchestrated alongside with the Downoworld clans, to reach Riverdale and just like that, all of the most important officials of the Clave have poured into their Institute through a portal in a matter of seconds. And of course, in traditional Clave way, each one of them acted all-high and mighty, singing praises to Betty for what she had done and carefully reassuring her that had they known what was being planned, they would have offered her as many Shadowhunters as she required.

Betty just smiled gratefully at their words, choosing not to ask them whether their  _ help _ would be because they wanted Hiram Lodge gone as badly as every single one of the Downworlders that stood by her side or simply because they couldn’t accept that they had no part in getting rid of him, accept that were it not for those  _ demon-blooded creatures  _ their biggest problem would still be causing commotion freely.

If she were to be honest, the Institute’s Ops Centre was the last place she wanted to be last now.

After the fight was really over, the task of transporting all of the unconscious bodies to the Institute's holding cells took up all of their attention and energy and by the time they were finally finished with it, all Betty wanted to do was to slip away to Jughead’s apartment, let him fix her a drink and venture to his balcony, where the air would no longer feel heavy with the fears of what deaths tomorrow would bring, where their hearts would beat out the same rhythm, jumping and fluttering with excitement at the prospect of a bit better, a bit brighter, future. But once the first officials started arriving and all of them were requesting her attention, her dreams evaporated before she even had a chance to blink. 

“Thank you, Consul,” Betty said absent-mindedly as the older gentleman shook her hand, missing about half of his sentences as her eyes caught Archie’s. There were dark circles underneath them, ones that were definitely the same as the ones under hers, and a question inside, calling Betty forward. “Please, excuse me.” She knew that the man in front of her held one of the most important positions within the Clave and she probably shouldn’t be running away from the conversation with him, but Archie’s pleading look put her parabatai on the top of her priority list rather easily.

“Of course,” the Consul Tom Keller nodded politely. “But please, find me later, I have a proposition for you that I believe you might find very interesting.”

Betty wanted to ask him more, but even across the room, she could feel Archie’s pleading and urgency, his desperation seeping through their bond. She quickly strode to him, the feeling intensifying with every step.

She opened her mouth to ask him what was wrong, but promptly shut it when he motioned her to follow her outside of the crowded Ops Centre. They walked in silence, stopping only once they were alone in a deserted corridor.

“I know seeing Polly and Jason is probably the last thing you want to do, but you and Cheryl need to go see them before they get shipped away to Riverdale for the trial,” Archie said, spilling the words out quickly almost as if he couldn’t hold them in any longer.

Betty’s gut twisted painfully; he was right, seeing the two of them was literally on the bottom of the list of the things she wanted to do. She’d much rather go back and listen to the stuck-up officials babble on for hours about how scared she must have been when asking the Downworlders for help, how unbelievable it was that they did something selfless, what a great job she did, taking Hiram Lodge down on her own. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that all of those empty words and praises were just attempts to get on a high horse and make themselves look good, because the situation painted them in a rather shitty light.

“I have nothing to tell them,” Betty shook her head decidedly. No, she made up her mind - she didn’t want to see either of them, she didn’t want to look into their eyes and feel the stabbing pain of their betrayal ever again. She had just enough.

“Betts-“

“Don’t Betts me, Archie,” she cut him off before he had a chance to even try to make his point. “I don’t want to see them and that’s the end of the story.”

Archie sighed heavily as he rubbed his chin, the faint stubble scraping against his fingers. “Fine. But please, at least go and talk with Cheryl. You know she’d never admit it, but she needs you right now.”

There was a certain earnesty to Archie’s voice, one that made Betty’s whole demeanour soften. Cheryl was the bravest and fiercest person she had ever met, unafraid and unbreakable. She had always known better than to rely on others, than to let anybody see underneath her mask of fire. Betty herself could easily recall all of the times that Cheryl let her guard down around her and she considered the girl to be her sister. She could only imagine what losing her actual sibling would do to her friend, all of the heartbreak and pain it would bring along. Actually, she could imagine it rather well, since her heart ached in a similar way.

“Yeah,” Betty found herself nodding.

“She’s in the training room,” Archie said without any more prompting.

A grateful smile spread across Betty’s lips, one that Archie answered with a supportive pad on a shoulder, which quickly turned into a bone-crushing hug. 

There were times when Betty feared those hugs, because they had a way of relaxing and calming her to the point where even the emotions that she had buried the deepest bubbled up onto the surface and leaked through the holes in her defences. Where she feared those emotions, knowing they were nothing but a distraction.

But now, years later, she knew better. The pain she felt made her stronger, the failures made her wiser. The mistakes pushed her to try again, the bad decisions taught her valuable lessons. The selfishness showed her happiness.

“I’m so proud of you,” Archie whispered unprompted. His lips pressed against the crown of Betty’s head for a few seconds and in that moment, right there, Betty let herself believe that. She let herself relish in the fact that she did good, that somebody was just completely and unconditionally proud of her.

“Thank you,” she whispered back, muffling the words into Archie’s chest and yet she was still sure he understood her clearly.

“Now go and make sure Cheryl is okay,” he said as he pushed Betty away from his embrace.

She nodded and gave him one last thankful smile before disappearing down the hall and heading in the direction of the training room.

It was of no surprise to find Cheryl to be the only person inside; even if there was somebody else, Betty was pretty sure that just one nasty look from Cheryl would send them running, vacating the space with a stumbling apology falling from their lips. Betty could still easily recall her behaviour being the exact same in the first weeks after she arrived to the Institute. It took a while for Cheryl to open up to the new addition to their family; she had always been well-guarded, not letting in just anybody.

A wave of nostalgia hit Betty as she closed the heavy door behind her; the room silent except for an occasional whooshing sound cutting through the air and a girl standing in the middle of the room. Except that the girl was no longer a young stranger, but somebody Betty considered to be one of her closest friends, her family, her sister. Somebody she had gotten to know over the years so well and intimately that just one look was enough to spot the tension that her shoulders carried and the slight tremble of her arms, things any other person might have missed while being astounded by the number of arrows in the target’s bullseye.

Betty was all too familiar with this coping technique; with training, with blindly attempting to improve and better herself in a hope that maybe next time things would be different. 

It rarely helped.

For a few moments, she considered going to the weaponry cabinet, bringing out the box full of throwing knives that was stashed on the bottom shelf and joining Cheryl in this aggressive outlet for her emotions, falling into an easy routine, one that the two of them have gone through way too many times to count. 

But deep down, Betty knew that this wasn’t just dealing with a small fuck up on a mission or a stupid argument over something neither of them would remember in a few hours. No, this pain was different; it ran deeper, coming from the pits of their stomachs and insides of their bones; making their blood boil with rage and taste in mouth turn bitter. No, this pain wouldn’t just heal, it wouldn’t leave faint cuts and bruises along their skins; no, the scars would be hidden underneath, etched into the backs of their minds and hearts forever.

Betty dropped on the floor next to Cheryl, lying on her back and staring at the room’s ceiling, the bright lights burning her eyes. Cheryl picked out an arrow from her quiver, fastening its nock against the bow’s string and aiming for a few seconds before releasing it and starting the process all over again.

It didn’t take Betty very long to find the rhythm in Cheryl’s movements, her breathing following the routine and synchronising with Cheryl’s seamlessly. It was a coping mechanism at its finest, nobody needed to explain that to Betty.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed - a part of her kept tugging her to speak, knowing that she would eventually be needed back in the Operations Centre and deal with the Clave - but another part of her, the selfish one, the one that grew significantly in the last few weeks, told her to stay. To let herself breathe, to let herself take a break. Because she was allowed to do that - she was allowed to grieve.

She didn’t notice when the arrows in Cheryl’s quiver ran out or when the girl laid her bow down and dropped down on the floor between the weapon and Betty. 

“I still expect to wake up and for all of this to be a dream,” Cheryl said, her voice carrying a slight tremble to it.

Betty sighed heavily. “I’m afraid to fall asleep because it would just confirm the theory that we’re awake right now.”

“How-” Cheryl started, but her voice broke before she could finish the question. She gulped audibly and even though Betty’s eyes were fixed on the ceiling above, she was pretty sure Cheryl was pushing back tears. “What are we going to do?”

Betty didn’t know the answer;  _ heaven _ , she didn’t even want to think about the answer. She didn’t want to live in a universe where a betrayal like this existed; and yet, she found herself there, unable to figure out, unable to remember where they fucked up so badly that they deserved pain like this.

“He - I don’t know who I am without him. We’ve always been inseparable,” Cheryl whispered, her heartbreak almost tangible in her words. “How could he? Why?”

A sob echoed through the empty training room. 

There were no words that Betty could use to soothe her friend’s misery; were there any, she would have used them to soothe her ages ago. But there was nothing - nothing but raw emptiness tugging at her heart, making her wish she didn’t have the organ at all. But the pain would probably still find its way in.

So, she did the only other thing that came to her mind - her hand reached out and found Cheryl’s, their fingers intertwining seamlessly. Betty squeezed her palm, hoping that the action would be enough for Cheryl to see that she wasn’t alone in this, that whatever she might need, Betty was right there, not leaving her side for a single second. That even though everything was looking bleak right now, there would never be a time where the two of them would stop being a family, where Betty would turn her back on Cheryl.

And when Cheryl squeezed her hand right back, Betty knew she understood.

After all, they had years of time together to build up the ability to communicate without words, to understand the offer of support and help. To build a friendship that ran deep and true, to build unconditional trust.

Betty wouldn’t have blamed Cheryl if she chose to want to grieve alone, would she choose to shut away from the world and never let anybody in.  _ Heaven _ , Betty wanted to do that as well; too afraid of experiencing the bitter taste of betrayal once again, too afraid of her heart shattering into millions of pieces, ones that could not be glued back together. 

However, there was something deeply calming and reassuring about feeling Cheryl’s palm in hers, about the warmth that seeped out of her skin, about the rough skin of her fingers from endlessly pulling at the bowstring drawing small circles around her knuckles. It was peaceful, it was soft, it was  _ loving _ .

Betty’s heart fluttered as that word flashed through her mind, longing and aching. 

“You are thinking about something,” Cheryl said, interrupting the thought-train that reeled through Betty’s mind, one whose destination was nowhere nice.

“And you aren’t?” Betty asked back.

Cheryl clicked her tongue, the sharp sound echoing from the walls. “C’mon, out with it, Coop.”

“I-” Betty started, but her mouth fell closed after the first word. What was she supposed to say? That she feared she could never trust anybody again? Or that she felt too young and tired for her life to be this mess? Or that all she wanted was to have some freedom, to finally do at least one thing for herself? Whichever of those was the most desperate, most eager to get out, it didn’t matter, because any words Betty tried to push out just stuck to the back of her neck, unwilling to leave the comfort of her mind, because that would make them real.

“Or you know what, let me just speak,” Cheryl said, effectively blocking Betty from saying what had been running through her mind. Her voice no longer wavered, the tremble replaced by her typical nonchalance. “I think you should stop thinking about what others might think of you and you should just go on and do the thing you want. You’ve sacrificed enough already, you deserve to get what you want for once.”

“I do things I want,” Betty retorted back quickly.

“Really? Name one.”

Betty licked her lip as she tried to remember. “I took down Hiram.”

Cheryl snickered at her answer and Betty was pretty sure it also involved an eyeroll. “You did, but was that because you wanted or because you felt like you had to? Was it what your heart longed after, what your heart desired the most?”

Betty didn’t find enough strength to push out a lie. “No.”

“I was thinking before you came in,” she started. Her tone wasn’t so harsh anymore, the edges of words soft as they carried through the air. “We follow every single rule and order, we always put your job and responsibilities first. And what do we get in return? A fucking betrayal by our family. It just sucks - you do everything for this life, you make so many sacrifices and all you get is betrayal and hatred.”

Betty just hummed in agreement, not quite sure where Cheryl was heading with this. 

“Would the world end if we suddenly decided to do one thing for ourselves?” Cheryl asked.

A strangled laugh left Betty’s lips. “You can’t rule the possibility out.”

“That’s wrong answer - it would go on without noticing,” Cheryl huffed. “So, what’s stopping you?”

A breath left Betty’s lungs but the air wasn’t replaced by new inhale. She coughed, her body shocked from the sudden question almost as much as her mind.

“What’s stopping me from what?” she asked, the strain in her voice probably not caused solely by the cough.

“From going after Jughead,” Cheryl explained as if it was the most obvious thing. 

Betty’s mind blanked out. “What?”

“Oh, c’mon,” Cheryl laughed. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Betty shook her head.

“Fine, whatever you say,” Cheryl said. 

Betty was about to defend herself that it wasn’t that simple, that she couldn’t just let herself go after him, but Cheryl apparently wasn’t finished speaking. “If you don’t let yourself try, if you don’t take the risk, you’ll just end up old, bitter and full of regrets. And you know, that is not a good look on anybody, especially not on you.”

The words ring through Betty’s ears, reminding her of a similar conversation she had, not that many nights ago on a balcony all the way across the city. If she recalled correctly, it were her lips that let out the question, it was her who asked if not trying wasn’t worse than a heartbreak. She also recalled Jughead’s laugh that followed it and the way his eyebrows propped up when he asked if she was really the person who should have been asking that question.

Her heart ached at the memory of that night, at what might have happened if they were not interrupted. She wanted to find out; she was  _ desperate _ to find out. 

“What are we going to do?” Betty asked, the question rather rhetorical because she sure as  _ heaven _ didn’t have an answer for it. It hung in the air, the thought of future terrifying both of them.

“I can’t stay here,” Cheryl whispered, but even the barely audible words carried resolution and determination. “We grew up together here, every room, every spot holds a memory of him, everything will continue to remind me of him. And I just can’t -” her voice broke and Betty just squeezed her hand tighter. 

Betty understood. “Where are you going to go?” 

“I have no idea,” Cheryl sighed. “Somewhere far. And warm, preferably. I think we deserve an early retirement or a really long vacation at least.”

Betty chuckled - Cheryl was right. The stuff they dealt with took a great toll on them, Betty felt as if she had aged at least half a decade in the span of last few weeks. But ironically, the prospect of vacation sounded anything but appealing. “That sounds lovely,” she forced herself to say anyways.

“You can come along, you know,” Cheryl offered. 

Even though a part of Betty wanted to say yes, wanted to come along and take a break, wanted to hold her friend close and make sure both of them healed properly from the trauma that they have experienced, she knew herself better than that. It’d take her only few hours to become antsy, to become bored; the desire to always keep moving, the need to always be occupied would drive her crazy. She loved being a Shadowhunter more than anything, she loved the constant rush that was New York, she loved the thrill of a good chase or a fight. Laying on a beach somewhere in Caribbean would only drive her mad.

“I can’t,” Betty shook her head. An explanation lingered her lips but before she could let it out, Cheryl interrupted her.

“I know,” Cheryl chuckled. “You’d die of boredom by the time we’d get there.”

Betty chuckled as well - Cheryl knew her all too well. “Will you be alright? On your own?”

“Who says I’d be on my own?” 

Now, that caught her interest. “Who is the poor soul you’ve roped into going with you?”

That question was enough to prompt a much louder, and Betty dared to say that happier, laugh from Cheryl. “Actually, it wasn’t my idea.”

“Okay, now I need to hear the entire story,” Betty said. She pushed herself up from the floor to a half-sitting position, leaning against her forearms and turning slightly towards Cheryl so she could watch her expression change and give away the small details her words might omit.

“Toni suggested it,” Cheryl shrugged as if it was the most banal thing.

“Toni suggested it?” Betty asked, her eyebrows shooting up. “When?”

“Few hours ago,” Cheryl answered and even if her tone sounded calm and steady, a small twitch that pulled the corners of her lips up or the faint blush that coloured her cheeks hadn’t escaped Betty’s attention.

A pride and happiness blossomed in her chest almost instantly, incredibly glad that Cheryl found somebody that excited her, somebody that made her life a bit better, a bit brighter, place. 

“I’m so happy for you,” Betty couldn’t stop herself from saying, nor could she stop a huge grin from spreading across her lips.

“Oh, for  _ angel’s _ sake, stop being so sappy,” Cheryl said and Betty was sure that the sentence was accompanied with an eye roll underneath her closed lids.

“Alright, alright,” Betty said as she lowered herself back to the floor. The air around them seemed much lighter now, no longer filled with heaviness of betrayal and sadness, but hope took over instead. “But I really am.”

Cheryl hummed appreciatively and let silence to take over the room once again.

Betty was truly happy for her friend - she wanted Cheryl to get out of here, to experience the world, to find something she’d be passionate about. She would miss her terribly, that was for sure - but she’d never stand in the way of her happiness.

She knew all too well what not being able to pursue your dreams, not being able to follow your heart, felt like. To be stuck in one place, orbiting around the possibility of happiness, too afraid of coming too close, too afraid of the fall and crash that surely would ensue; but at the same time, too afraid of putting too much of a distance between them, too afraid that there would not be a way back.

But now, seeing how the prospect of doing something she had dreamt about set alight a flame of happiness in Cheryl, Betty longed to experience that feeling as well. She wanted to, oh, how desperately _. _

_ So, why was she stopping herself? _

A door to the training room opened with a loud creak, effectively stopping Betty from exploring that particular rabbit hole. She wasn’t quite sure whether she wanted to curse the person who entered or thank them.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but Cheryl, your parents are here,” Archie called from the doorway.

“Time to face the world,” Cheryl sighed. She squeezed Betty’s hand one last time before letting it go and sitting up, an action Betty quickly copied.

“You will crush it,” Betty said supportingly as Cheryl collected her empty quiver and bow.

The girl threw her hair over her shoulder and laughed and even though Betty knew it wasn’t the carefree sound of happiness she usually carried, it also wasn’t the painful and broken sob, which she counted as a win. 

“Please, when have I ever not?” Cheryl asked, her voice slipping easily to her traditional teasing tone. 

She quickly deposited her weapons back to the cabinet and strode over to Archie, gently squeezing his shoulder as she passed by him to the corridor. Cheryl was one of the smartest people Betty knew - she probably realised long time ago that it was Archie who sent Betty over here and even though she will continue to act as if nothing is wrong, especially once around people, she’s grateful for her friends looking out for her.

Betty couldn’t help but let her thoughts wander back to where they were before Archie entered, to her conversation with Cheryl, to the memory of Jughead’s words. 

_ Why was she so sure that not giving into her feelings, that not letting herself follow her heart was the best choice? _ She tried to remember, but for some reason, her mind turned hazy and no answer offered itself up.  _ Why was she stopping herself? _

“You coming Betty?” Archie asked, his eyes worried and expression caring.

“Yeah,” she nodded and quickly followed after him.

The Operations Centre didn’t seem any less crowded once she returned, in fact, it just seemed that more people found their way between the long tables and high screens that were regularly beeping as they monitored the demon activity all through the city, interrupting the constant chatter that carried through the room.

The Blossoms were the first people she spotted, Clifford and Penelope deep in conversation with Cheryl, so Betty pushed her way through the crowd and towards them. 

“... had always been ours, Cheryl,” Betty heard Clifford say once she got close enough.

“I know that, but I simply can’t,” Cheryl said, her voice razor sharp and stance defensive.

Betty’s brows furrowed but the frown quickly disappeared as she felt Penelope’s eyes on her. “Betty! I feel like we haven’t seen you in ages!” Penelope said happily and Betty choose to return her smile and ignore the tension of the interrupted conversation that hung in the air.

“It’s been way too long,” Betty nodded and let herself be hugged by the older woman, before shaking Clifford’s hand politely. “How is Riverdale treating you?”

“It’s amazing,” Penelope gushed, “after running the Institute for as long as we did, the change of pace and scenery was very refreshing.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Betty answered honestly. Even though the Blossoms had their faults, she had lived under the same roof with them for years - they were parents to her in many ways her real mother had never been. If being in Riverdale brought them happiness, then Betty couldn’t be more supportive of that.

A question sparked in her mind then and it was out of her mouth before she had a chance to consider if it really was a good idea to ask. “So, who are you appointing as the new Head of the Institute?”

The moment the question left her mouth she knew it had been a mistake, but the words were already out, hanging around them in the air thanks to the thick tension that filled it and no matter what Betty would do, there was no taking them back. They seemed to drain all of the colour out of Penelope’s face, force a frown down onto Clifford’s features and make Cheryl’s eyes dart anywhere but at her parents - 

_ Oh. _

Betty didn’t need explaining to put two and two together, their expressions and the tension speaking volumes on its own. She licked her lips in an attempt to find an apology, but instead her mouth got filled with sourness, one that’s origin she couldn’t quite place. She couldn’t stay there, so she forced an excuse to form instead.

“I should get going, I have an unfinished conversation with Tom Keller to attend to and then there are the reports that need to be filled out…” Betty’s voice trailed off as her eyes met Cheryl’s. “But you know, for what it’s worth, I can’t imagine anybody better suited for the position,” she added in a supportive voice. She knew that the last thing Cheryl wanted was to get stuck in the Institute where everything reminded her of Jason, doing the job that up until a few hours back was Jason’s, but even through all those obstacles, Betty knew her friend would do an amazing job.

Something flashed through Cheryl’s eyes after hearing Betty’s words and the corners of her mouth lifted up and settled into a mischievous smile, one that Cheryl always carried when she had come up with a plan and from her rather extensive experience, Betty knew those plans rarely ended well. She eyed her friend with a suspicious look, but Cheryl just winked at her suggestively and grinned more widely. “Go on, go find the Consul, it’s important to have a good relationship with a man of his position.”

Betty gave her one more questioning look before listening and leaving the Blossoms with polite nods. She made her way through the crowd thinking about Cheryl’s situation - when that girl put her mind up to something, there was very little that could sway her off getting what she wanted. There was no way she’d accept the position, no way she’d stay in the Institute. So, would they send somebody new from Riverdale? New York was a huge city, laying on some of the most important sources of magical powers and the most frequent rift openings. Some of the most important entrances to both the Seelie realm and the warlock’s Spiral Labyrinth were here, meaning there was never a lack of magical creatures around. The city was always buzzing with demonic presence, in ways like almost no other place on Earth was, which made this Institute a lucrative place to be added to any Shadowhunter’s resume. And to be the Head of this place…

Lost in her thoughts, daydreaming about the endless possibilities that the world held now, Betty’s body crashed into another - and if this was the universe’s way of trying to tell a joke, she would politely have to explain to it that it wasn’t funny, not at the slightest.

“Elizabeth,” her mother greeted her with a small nod.

“Mother,” Betty repeated her motion, already looking for an opening to escape the conversation. But the universe seemed to continue its joke, as she had just interrupted her mother’s conversation with the Consul Keller, the man she was looking for. “Consul,” Betty added quickly.

“Betty, exactly the woman I wanted to see,” Tom Keller said with a wide smile. “We were just discussing what a great job you did, apprehending Hiram Lodge on your own without any help or support from the Clave.”

“The Downworlders of New York helped a great deal,” Betty said with a small smile that tried to mask the sharpness of her tone, but it didn’t escape either of the two people in front of her.

“Elizabeth-” her mother hissed, but Tom raised his hand, preventing her from finishing the sentence.

“Of course and I’d very much like to extend my gratitude to all of them, personally if possible,” he said, his kind words in stark contrast to her mother’s anger. His admission rendered both of them speechless, even though it was due to vastly different reasons.

It was an amazing feeling to know that there was at least one person in the Clave who wasn’t corrupted to a bone, whose blood wasn’t filled with hatred and mind clouded by prejudices.

“I am sure we’ll be able to work something out,” Betty said quickly, her mind already imagining the smug smiles on the faces of Downworlders as they’d listen to a Shadowhunter thanking them for their services, for ensuring justice was delivered when their own soldiers and methods fell short.

“This actually brings me to the proposition I had for you,” the Consul said then.

Betty squared her shoulders almost on an instinct and leaned forward so she could hear the man better.

“Uniting Nephilim and the Downworld clans together to fight side-by-side for a single cause was a truly inspirational act and I believe that the Clave should strive to follow in your footsteps. For too long we had ignored Downworlders, shunning them to the side, treating them as inferior. But they aren’t - they are as important to the Shadow World as we are,” he said and Betty found herself breathless at his words.  _ Was she dreaming or was this really happening? _

“As you surely know, the relationship between our races is strained, to say at best and it pains me to think that we have allowed for such a rift to be created between us, that we let stupid prejudices and lies create tension and hatred. But you managed to overcome that, to put all of your differences aside and work together without getting those differences in your way.”

“Are you heading somewhere with this?” Betty’s mother asked, impatience clear in her voice.

Keller ignored her, his attention solely on Betty. “I want this world to be a better place, not only for us but also for Downworlders. And I think you are the perfect person for the job.”

Betty’s brows furrowed. “What job?”

“Shadow World Alliance Lead Consultant,” Tom Keller said. “Or something along those lines, we’re still tweaking the official title,” he added quickly.

“Shadow World Alliance Lead Consultant?” Alice repeated the title, the words coming off her tongue in the form of a question. “What on Earth is that?”

“It would entail travelling to various Institutes and working on improving their relationships with the Downworlders. Anything from setting up meetings, through teaching them how to properly communicate and exist in the same room without offending or attacking each other, all the way to finding compromises, something that would allow both sides to live together a bit more peacefully and perhaps even start working side-by-side, like you managed to do it here,” the Consul explained. “I know, it’s a lot. But once the movement would start gaining friction and interest, once people see the results, more and more would follow your footsteps.”

Betty felt breathless as she listened to his vision; her heart longed to live in a world where that wouldn’t be just a dream, but a reality. Where the Shadow World would be united and would work together, as one, as they were meant to. But he was right - it would be a lot of work, probably years of fruitless and thankless work. Overcoming centuries of differences and hatred wasn’t something that just happened overnight - and even though she managed to persuade the New York’s Downworld factions to help her, it didn’t mean that their relationship was suddenly perfect and that all of them were best friends.

“That sounds like a waste of time,” her mother murmured and Betty had to resist an urge to slap her right then and there.

She somehow did and instead, she focused on the man in front of her. “I’m honoured by this opportunity, I truly am,” she said carefully. Her mind was a mess and chest kept contracting - she needed to take a break. “But I am going to need some time to think about it.”

The Consul nodded. “Take all the time you need - a decision like this should not be done harshly.” He paused then, but Betty could almost feel the unfinished thought still lingering at his lips. “Just know that I believe that you have the power to make the Shadow World a better place and it would truly be a shame if you just threw that away.”

Betty gave him a small smile before finally excusing herself and pushing through the masses of people.

His words rang through her mind, reminding her a bit too closely of those spoken by her mother.

_ So many opportunities were waiting for you… an important role within the Clave. _

_ Shadow World Alliance Lead Consultant. _

_ And you threw all of that away for some warlock. _

_ And it would truly be a shame if you just threw that away. _

There wasn’t any air left in her lungs by the time she finally reached the winter gardens; she pushed the heavy door to open, almost stumbling against her own feet and falling to the ground were she not leaning against the door handle. The air was warm and moist, but it still felt a lot less suffocating compared to the tension that filled it inside the Ops Centre. Here, it was just her and the plants; no constant buzz of conversation, no beeping of computers and machines, no people pushing around and through the masses of bodies.

She took a deep inhale, letting her lungs fill up with air, letting her heart calm down and mind clear. She could almost feel the fresh blood making way through her veins, awakening every cell of her body that had been starved for oxygen for way too long. Slowly, she sat down, her back leaning against the wet wall behind her and not a single bit of her cared that if she stayed like that, her shirt would end up getting completely soaked through. The cold of the wet wall was surprisingly calming and grounding, so she just gave into it, dropping her head back and letting her eyes fall closed.

_ What was she supposed to do? _ The last thing she expected the Consul to offer her was a job position - and not just any job position. She’d be in charge of improving relations in the Shadow World, she’d be in charge of ensuring that Downworlders would be treated with the respect they deserve. The position would allow her to do so much great things; it would give her an opportunity to make the world a better place. It was everything she wanted - so why didn’t it feel that way?

Why was her heart aching at the prospect of accepting his proposal, why was every cell of her body screaming at her to not do it? Why did she feel this force pulling her away, tugging at her limbs, trying to grab her and push as far away as possible?

Betty’s head dropped down, hiding in her palms as an exasperated sigh left her lips. She was too tired to deal with this - she could barely sleep the night before because of the anticipation of going against Hiram and she didn’t get a moment of rest this night. The sun was high in the sky already, shining on her through the glass ceiling of the winter gardens, only as if it was trying to mock Betty. 

She didn’t know what to do, apart from the fact that she couldn’t make that decision. She felt as if she was being torn into two - the duty and the responsibility pulling on her one side, screaming at her to accept the job, to fight for what was right, to do all that was in her power to make the world a better place and then, her heart gently asking if it really was what she dreamed of.

She didn’t know - she had no idea anymore. Her mind was too much of a mess and she had forgotten how to tidy it up.

But maybe, she didn’t have to do it alone; maybe, she was allowed to ask for help. 

She didn’t give herself an opportunity to think this through, to hesitate or change her mind - her phone was next to her ear before she could even blink.

The dial tone beeped in regular intervals and Betty found herself synchronising her breathing with the sound quickly. It was both calming and nerve-wracking at the same time.

But then, it stopped and the mechanic sound got replaced by a soft breathing pattern and a kind voice. “Hey, I was just about to call you.”

Betty couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across her lips even if she wanted to. “Great minds think alike?” 

“They do,” Jughead hummed agreeingly. “How are you?” There was a certain casualty to the question and to an outsider, it would not seem any different from the one that you throw around on a daily basis. But it was never just a question with Jughead; especially not now.

“I’m…” Betty started, but her voice trailed off. She could feel the simmering happiness bubbling in her heart, but at the same time, she could sense the fear that seeped in there as well. Conflicting emotions rummaged through her and if she were to be honest, she didn’t know how she was. “...not really sure.”

“Oh?” left Jughead’s end of the line, but nothing more.

She took a deep breath before starting on the explanation. “I got a job offer,” she said slowly.

“Is it a bad thing?” Jughead inquired, clearly confused about Betty’s reaction.

“I mean, no,” Betty said carefully. “It’s an honour, really.”

“So, what’s the job?” he asked, prompting her to keep talking.

“Shadow World Alliance Lead Consultant,” Betty said slowly, rolling each of the words on her tongue properly before letting them out. The title felt heavy; much heavier than when it casually left the Consul’s mouth, much heavier than when it mockingly left her mother’s mouth. It left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth and she really didn’t want to think about what it meant.

“I have never heard about that,” Jughead said and Betty could vividly picture how his brows furrowed in confusion.

Betty chuckled lightly. “I’d be surprised if you had,” she said, “apparently, I have inspired them to create that position.”

There was a beat of silence followed by a small whistle. “That’s impressive, Betts,” Jughead said slowly. “I’m proud of you.”

Her heartbeat picked up on speed, but with it, a wave of guilt washed over her. “I guess so.”

“So, what does the job entail?” Jughead asked. There was a clear interest in his voice and Betty gave into it all too easily.

“Improving relations within the Shadow World mainly by visiting different Institutes and teaching Nephilim how to work with Downworlders, helping them set up Council boards and stuff like that,” Betty explained. She brought her hand up to rub her face - in the warm winter gardens, the lack of sleep was really taking its toll on her. “I don’t even know properly, it’s still just a theoretical position.”

Jughead didn’t say anything for a while, his regular breathing the only proof that he hadn’t hung up on her. “Well, is that something you’d be interested in?” His voice was low and Betty couldn’t help but shiver at his tone.

“I think so? I would love to be able to make a difference, to help. To make the Shadow World a slightly better place,” she sighed. She truly wanted to do that - then why did those words taste like a lie?

Jughead clicked his tongue. “Well, I think you know what I’m going to say.”

“But say it anyways?”

“I think you should follow your heart,” Jughead whispered and Betty would swear that it was right in that moment that it stopped beating. “The job, everything about it, sounds so incredible, dear. The difference you could make, all of the lives you could improve…” his voice trailed off.

_ But _ .

_ But _ was left unspoken, hanging in the air.

“I know,” Betty whispered softly. She couldn’t bring herself to think about the end of his sentence, to think about what would happen were she accept the job. A job that would take her away from New York, from her family, from her home.

From Jughead.

From the possibility of a future that seemed to be almost at her fingertips now, from the dream she allowed herself to slowly nurture and grow. 

Was this what being selfish got her? A pain of heartbreak from the love she never properly let herself experience? The bitterness of a missed opportunity, the hole in her chest feeling emptier than it had for a long time? An unstoppable ache, devastating longing for what could have been? Feelings that would forever keep simmering just underneath the skin of her body, never explored to their full potential?

It hurt, the pain unlike any wound or bruise that ever littered her body. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing somebody, somewhere, would give her a sign of what to do, or just make the decision for her.

But nothing happened; the pain continued, interrupted only by Jughead’s soft breathing and faint sounds of nature all around her.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why not have some more angst to finish off the penultimate chapter? i love you all even though you probably hate me right now. 😘 stay tuned for the tuesday's chapter though, i swear, you might hate me a little less after that.
> 
> thank you for commenting and sending your love my way, it always warms up my heart. and a thank you also goes to maggie, for betaing 💕


	23. chapter xxiii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ruelle's [war of hearts](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GX7f1Btk1yM) and [ where we come alive ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rqR1Q6RygR8) plays in the background, because how could it not?

A strange feeling settled in the pit of Jughead’s stomach once his call with Betty ended, as if dozens of rocks replaced the butterflies that were fluttering inside of him when he picked up. 

He leaned against the railing of his balcony and with a heavy sigh, he summoned a half-full glass into his hand. The sun was high in the sky, burning brightly after what seemed like weeks of rain and for a second it left Jughead wondering whether it was the universe’s attempt on a metaphor of some sorts. Maybe this really was the beginning of better times, of brighter times. Of a future where the rift that separated Nephilim from Downworlder would slowly close up and the Shadow World would become a safer and nicer place.

He could try, but he would never be able to count how many times he had dreamt of that - how many times he had caught himself hoping, longing after that dream. And now, when it was almost at his fingertips, when he could sense the promise of improvement at his lips, he couldn’t help but find it rather bitter, instead of the sweetness that he expected it to carry.

Was it because he didn’t quite believe that it could be done?

Or was it because his heart would get broken in the process?

_ Shadow World Alliance Lead Consultant.  _

A small smile broke out on his lips. Bottom line - he was proud of her. He was so  _ fucking  _ proud of her. His knowledge of the Clave’s politics hadn’t been at its best for decades, but getting a job offer for a position that had been created especially for you, that didn’t happen just everyday to just anybody. What Betty had done must have influenced people in the highest positions deeply for them to show their gratitude in this way.

And he knew she’d do good.  _ Hell _ , she’d do amazing. He had the pleasure of watching her interact with Downworlders on enough occasions to know that she was built of diplomacy and respect. That her voice held the power to capture the attention of dozens, that her words could sink deep into your soul and stir up feelings that you have long tried to forget.

A chuckle escaped his lips as he brought the glass up, slowly sipping on the dark golden liquid. 

_ What was he thinking, letting himself fall for such a force of nature?  _ Betty was predestined for greatness, she was predestined to do the most spectacular things and he knew she would.

From what he had gathered, it always had been her dream. Growing up with Alice for a mother, with a younger sister that in everybody's eyes overshone each of her achievements, with Archie and his constantly attention-grabbing aura, and even later, after moving to the Institute, the Blossoms were always chosen first, put before anybody else, - even though she might not admit it, Jughead knew she longed for recognition, she longed to be seen.

Wanted to not be put on the second place anymore, wanted to stop hiding in the shadows that seemed to follow her everywhere she went. 

Betty deserved it all; she deserved the appreciation, the recognition, the gratitude.

And Jughead would thankfully shower her with it for the rest of her life.

Actually, right then and there, standing on his balcony, of which every spot reminded him of her, he realised there was nothing else he’d rather do.

Well, maybe except for one thing.

_ Make her happy. _

The alcohol tasted bitter at his tongue but for once, he wasn’t quite sure if it really was the alcohol, or just the taste of his own thoughts. 

Was this what he got for allowing a Shadowhunter to tear down the walls he had built around his heart carefully, for allowing her to find her way into his heart and mark every spot of it as her own? Bitterness at the knowledge how important her job was to her, how important her legacy was to her? Knowing that concepts as following her heart or doing things for herself were foreign to her?

Jughead admired her selflessness - except for the times when his heart was on a line.

He  _ fucking _ hated it then.

But what was there left for him to do? He couldn’t just storm into the Institute and demand that she would turn down the job, that she’d stay in New York, stuck in the same place, unable to offer help. She’d burst from it, from all of the kindness and need to protect she carries with her at all times. 

No, he needs to put her first - no matter how much it would hurt. Because her entire life, nobody did that; nobody cared about her enough to let her make the decision, to let her pick what she wanted to do. Everybody always just assumed that she’d be alright with the decision they made, that she’d bend and adjust her life endlessly for them. And Jughead just wanted to show her that he wasn’t like that; that to him, she  _ always _ came first.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, hoping that one of the actions would ease his breathing and stop the world from spinning. 

His mind was running wild, memories of the past weeks playing at the backs of his eyelids.

And Betty,  _ Betty _ , the centerpiece of each and every one of them.

The soft happy smile that had spread across her lips as she took a sip of the fruity piña colada he summoned for her, her eyes lingering on his fingers as he commanded his magic. Her golden ponytail swaying in the air as she fearlessly fought the demons in the Speakeasy and the same fearlessness directed at him as she threw a knife inches away from his face, calling him out on acting like a dick and summoning the said demons.

How ever since that night, she carried his ring around her neck, always hanging just mere inches from her heart.

He could still clearly recall the happiness that filled him as he spotted her sitting at Wyrm’s bar, hidden in her soaked hoodie and yet, her presence unmistakable and unmissable. The way her eyebrows pushed together as she concentrated on getting the perfect shot, the way her fingers grasped the pole, her movements both elegant and deadly. How she could see immediately right through his game, through his attempt to keep her there for as long as possible. 

The fire that burned in her eyes, the one he so easily got lost in and hadn’t even attempted to find his way out ever since.

How she called him just a few hours later, fear and horror all over her voice and the need to save her parabatai stronger than anything else. He still remembered vividly the way his heart skipped a beat as he entered the dark basement, overwhelming smell of blood and ichor hitting his nostrils immediately. How he didn’t hesitate for a second before unleashing all of his healing magic on Archie, knowing he would never forgive himself if he let the Shadowhunter die; knowing he would never be able to live with the burden of letting Betty down weighing on his shoulders. She was strong, and incredibly so - but every person has a breaking point, a point of no return, and Jughead would do anything in his power to keep Betty from crossing hers.

That was the night that he realised there was something different about her; although, in retrospect, his heart had known it all along.

There still was this ever-present ache whenever he thought of Jellybean; but for some reason, talking to Betty about her felt like the most natural thing ever. The words felt lighter on his tongue, the truth didn’t come with a heart-wrenching pain squeezing at his chest tightly, instead, it felt as if something got lifted off it instead. He thought telling Betty about the past he had with his family would be the beginning of the end for them, but instead, it was simply just a beginning.

She listened to him, she accepted him, she understood him in ways he never expected her to do so.

Come to think of it, he didn’t suppose there was anyone else he’d be willing to turn the entire city of New York upside down; there was anyone else for whom he’d willingly work side-by-side with Nephilim. But the way his heart clutched when Jason told him something has happened; the way it dropped when they told him it was Hiram Lodge that took her - Jughead hadn’t felt fear like that in years.

Jughead hadn’t felt anything like that in years and the thought terrified him.

Seeing Betty’s barely conscious body was a sight he never wanted to repeat and it took him a long time to finally erase that memory from the backs of his eyelids, from seeing it every time he closed his eyes. It was probably around that time that the heaviness and realness of his feelings really started dawning on him - that he started to notice the invisible force that kept pulling him towards the Shadowhunter. 

He could not pinpoint the moment he allowed that to happen, the moment when he gave his heart away; and a part of him couldn’t care less.

Somehow, Betty made her way not only to every single part of his heart, but also slowly but surely, the memories of her filled up his home too. The fire escape by his bedroom window, where she sat in the rain as she waited for him to come home, the kitchen where they enjoyed a morning cup of coffee or Pop’s fabulous burgers and chilli fries. His living room, where they talked for long hours about how to take Hiram down and when they got too tired, the conversation slowly slipped from business to casual, Betty’s soft voice and kind smile stirring feelings up in the pit of Jughead’s stomach. His balcony, the one he stood on now, feeling devastatingly empty and huge without Betty’s presence to fill the void.

Even the view of New York City, bathed in the harsh sunlight, seemed a lot less intriguing when he didn’t see it in the reflection of her eyes.

All of the  _ almosts _ , all of the  _ what-ifs _ , all of the unexplored possibilities lingered in the air. How different would the present be if only had he not screwed up? How different would it be if only both of them weren’t so terrified of crossing the line and seeing what the future might have in store for them? How different would it be if only they tried, instead of giving into their fears and insecurities? Would she be here, by his side now, drinking in the view and each others’ presence? Or maybe would he be by hers, shaking hands of the most important Clave officials, a fake smile plastered on everybody’s faces but his, because his could never be anything but real when beside her?

Would things be different had he kissed her all the times he wanted to?

Or would he still be here, all on his own, wallowing in regrets and mourning something neither of them allowed themselves to pursue?

His glass was empty as he brought it up to his lips once again, making him frown with disappointment. He was about to summon more alcohol in, hoping that it would help to drown out the hollow feeling in his chest when the skin on the back of his neck tingled, the familiar feeling of somebody entering his home running along his spine.

“Hey,” Pea said as he walked out to the balcony, crossing the distance between the two of them with a few long strides.

“Hey,” Jughead mumbled back. He ran his finger along the rim of his glass, still lost deep in his thoughts.

“What’s up with the broodiness?” Pea asked after a few moments of silence. “Why aren’t you celebrating?”

“I’m not brooding,” Jughead shook his head lightly, but the lie felt weak on his tongue and Pea would see through it effortlessly.

“Sure you aren’t,” his friends said, his words accompanied by an eyeroll. 

Jughead just sighed and flicked his wrist, his glass refilling with whiskey in a split second. He raised it up to his lips and took a long swing, hoping that the burn of alcohol would somehow overpower the other burning in his chest. It was times like these that he hated his warlock genes that prevented him from getting drunk unless he planned on going through his entire alcohol cabinet. 

Which honestly didn’t sound like that bad of an idea.

Sweet Pea brought his own glass up, one that Jughead hadn’t even noticed materialising in his hands. “You wanna talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about? We took care of Lodge and life goes on,” he shrugged. “Things aren’t in our hands anymore, so we can simply move on.”

The words stung, they made his heart ache and chest contract. They made him want to throw the glass in his hands down on the floor and watch it break into millions of pieces, hoping that it would make his heartbreak seem like a mere tiny crack that would mend over time. That it would make his pain seem less horrible, less real.

Sweet Pea continued frowning at him, his eyes carefully scanning every inch of his face, as if he thought he could find the answer to Jughead’s miserable mood there. “C’mon, Jug, talk to me,” he said as he probably realised that his piercing gaze would yield no results and that the only way to figure out what was weighing on his friend was to drag it out of him.

Jughead just shook his head and dropped his gaze, turning back to the city. He quickly finished the rest of his drink before banishing the glass away, action he instantly came to regret. What was he supposed to do with his hands now? He was too distracted to let his fingers just stretch and relax, too anxious to let them curl into tight fists. Subconsciously, he chose the only remaining option - fiddling with his rings.

But even that reminded him of the way Betty’s eyes always shamelessly followed the movements of his hands, the way her eyes sparkled at the same time as his hands did. And well, then there was his crown-ring, the one he made all those centuries ago for himself and Jellybean, the one that Betty carried now.

His fingers froze as he touched the metal, unsure if he wanted to take it off and throw it away, angry at the fact that the ring was a constant reminder of loss, or if he wanted to squeeze it in his palm tightly and press it against his chest and hope by some miracle, the connection between the pair would carry his feelings to Betty.

“What did the Cooper girl do now?” Sweet Pea asked then, tearing Jughead away from his haze.

Jughead’s eyes snapped to his friend, his eyebrow raising in question. “What? Why would you think she did something?”

Sweet Pea just scoffed. “C’mon, I’m not blind, man.”

Jughead shook his head and was about to offer some lame excuse about how there was nothing going on, but the half-lie got stuck in his throat, the words unwilling to come out. He closed his mouth back, deciding that he’d rather stay silent than offer the whole truth. 

“Alright, so you want me to guess?” Pea asked and before Jughead had time to disagree, to tell him that he’d prefer he wouldn’t do anything of sorts, Pea was speaking once again. “You’re pouting because you told her how you feel and she didn’t repcricorate,” he said at first.

“Wha-”

“Wait, no, I’ve sadly witnessed how the two of you look at each other and if you told her how you felt, her answer would surely be the same as yours,” he hummed. He raised his finger up and tapped on his chin a few times, feigning being deep in thought. “Which leaves me with just one option. You hadn’t told her shit and now you’re brooding because you think she would never be with you. What the  _ hell  _ is wrong with you, man?”

Jughead rolled his eyes at Sweet Pea’s tough love - he knew his friend meant well, he knew that his friend was right, but that didn’t change anything about his situation. “It’s not that simple Sweets-”

“To  _ hell _ it isn’t that simple!” Pea interrupted him. “Why shouldn’t it? Because you’re a warlock and she’s a Nephilim? Because you’ll be alive for centuries while she grows old? Because her mother is worse than any demon out there?”

Jughead glared at him - was this supposed to be helpful? “Among other things…”

“Why do you care, Jones? You clearly feel something, no, you clearly feel  _ a lot _ for her - so why do you care about any of that?” Sweet Pea asked. “When have you started giving a crap about what others think, especially about what Shadowhunters think?”

Jughead gulped as he averted his gaze. 

“That’s not you, Jug. You were always the one who told me to follow my heart, to fight for my dreams and to not give up. To not wallow in self-pity and instead get out and do something about my life.”

“And where has that gotten you?” Jughead asked, his tone dry and broken. There was no need for a follow-up question, no need for an explanation - the hurt in his voice spoke volumes. Sixteen years might have passed since her death, but the scar was still all too fresh on both of them.

Sweet Pea sighed loudly before answering. “It gave me the most amazing years of my life. Loving and being loved back -” he paused to take a deep breath, “- I’ll never not look fondly on the memories of her. And the pain, the heartbreak, it all stings - man, it still hurts like hell - but I’d endure it all again for just one more second with her.” 

His voice was raw and it clutched at Jughead’s heart. They rarely talked about Jellybean together, not wanting to tear open the wound they both spent years carefully stitching back together. ”Pea, you don’t-”

“No, Jug, you need to hear this,” Pea said, silencing him with one swift hand movement. “Letting myself fall for JB, opening myself up to her was the best damn decision I ever made. Sure, it scared the shit out of me, the possibility of giving my heart away, knowing fully that she might break it at any given moment. But she didn’t - she cherished it like her own and in return, she gifted me hers…” his voice trailed off then, the memories definitely overwhelming him. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I guess what I’m trying to say, is that you’ve got to let yourself try. I swear, no matter the outcome, you won’t regret it.”

There was this tugging at Jughead’s chest, the one that wanted him to pull Sweet Pea into an embrace and ask him when he had the time to become so smart, to thank his young friend for his wise advice, for his support and love. But none of that came out of his mouth; instead, the words on his tongue were full of bitterness and regret. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”

“Did she tell you that?” Pea asked immediately. “Or is this your way of shutting yourself away?”

“Neither,” Jughead sighed. “She got a job offer.”

A surprised laugh escaped Sweet Pea’s lips. “And?”

“ _ And _ it is an amazing opportunity for her, but it’d take her away from New York. The job was created specifically for her and it’d give her an opportunity to do so much good for Shadow World,” Jughead explained softly. “ _ And  _ I won’t put myself in a way of that.”

Sweet Pea didn’t say anything after that, clearly taken aback by Jughead’s words. It wasn’t easy, but he knew it was the right choice - he needed to leave the decision up to Betty, he needed to give her space to pick what she wanted. 

And although it was breaking his heart, the part of him that admired her sense of responsibility and selflessness already knew what she would pick. And he was okay with that - or he would slowly grow to be, the time healing even the deepest of wounds.

“For what it’s worth,” Sweet Pea said softly after a few minutes of silence, “I don’t think you’d be putting yourself in a way of that. I think you’d be just showing her that there’s another option, one that would keep both of you from a long time of misery and regret.”

The words creeped onto Jughead, drilling into his mind and heart vigorously, no matter how hard he tried to shut them out or ignore them. They would not leave, they would not stop tugging at him, begging for his attention.

“Anyways, if you decide to stop being all broody and stupid, come join us in the Wyrm. Toni is throwing a party and rumour has it that she’ll be serving this amazing two-centuries-old Cuban rum,” Pea said with a suggestive wink. He patted Jughead on the shoulder a couple of times before opening a portal for himself and disappearing in its bluish glow, leaving Jughead alone with his thoughts once again.

However, they were a lot different from the ones that haunted him before his friend showed up. He couldn’t help but think they were a bit more positive, hopeful dared he even say.

Why couldn’t they have what both of them clearly wanted, what both of them clearly craved so desperately? Why were they letting the circumstances stop them again and again, why were they letting the obstacles that could be overcome with a bit of effort, throw them off course? Why didn’t they just try?

He was moving off his balcony and into his bedroom in a bit of a haze. The walls around him were blurry, the objects unclear and his mind running wild with possibilities.

He remembered a question that Betty asked him, not that many nights ago on his - no,  _ their _ \- balcony.  _ But not trying… Isn’t that worse? _ He also remembered laughing and joking whether it shouldn’t be him who was asking that question. But he never gave her an answer.

The truth was that she was right. She had always been right, always, always,  _ always _ . 

They could make this work, he believed in that. They could think of something, they had to. There would be obstacles, there would be hardships, but right now, he couldn’t think of a single thing that could stop them, he couldn’t think of a single hurdule that they wouldn’t overcome. 

He quickly rummaged his closet for something clean to wear, something that didn’t smell of battlefield and self-pity, something that would make him look moderately presentable in front of what according to Betty was like the entire Clave. No pressure though.

With his outfit looking somewhat presentable and his beanie tucked securely on the top of his head, he felt both as ready as he’d ever be and completely unprepared at the same time. He brought his hand up to start opening up a portal, knowing he was too antsy to survive the long walk that separated him from the Institute, when an idea occurred to him. 

It only took a couple more swipes of his hand in the air before a handful of flowers appeared in his palm, a small bouquet full of golden and greenish flowers.  _ They remind me of you, _ he’d say,  _ of the shining gold of your hair and heart and of the kindness that your eyes hold. _

The portal was up in next to no time and before he had a chance to think it through properly and talk himself out of that stupid idea, he crossed through, exiting on the Institute's doorstep.

The church looked taller than he remembered it, the angelic energy that radiated off it much stronger today. A part of him supposed it was due to the sheer amount of Nephilim currently inside, another part whispered that it was just him being oversensitive thanks to his nerves. He didn’t argue with either.

Slowly, he took a step forward. There was an uncertainty to his movements, one that he hadn’t felt for years. He always made sure to think everything through, to consider every part of his plan carefully and make sure there was no room for errors or mess ups. He rarely did anything on a whim, he rarely dove head first into unknown situations. 

His grip on the bouquet in his hand tightened, the reality of what he was about to do slowly dawning on him.

_ What exactly was he planning on doing? _

He wanted - he needed - to let Betty know that there was another option. That he wanted to try, he wanted to give this, them, a shot, more than anything else in the world. That he was willing to make compromises, that  _ hell _ , he was willing to follow her wherever the job took her, he was willing to leave his entire life behind, if she was willing to try.

He needed her to know that her happiness was a priority for him and that as long as she would have him, as long as she would accept his heart and cherish it, he would do the same for her.

The heavy doors on the Institute opened and Jughead didn’t hesitate before taking the last few steps, pushing by the couple of Shadowhunters that just exited the building inside. 

He had to take this shot, he couldn’t just let their chance at love slip through their fingers, not without fighting for it properly first.

***

Betty was chatting with Archie and a couple of their classmates from the Academy that chose to stay in Riverdale and take on positions within the Clave instead of pursuing a more field-oriented career like the two of them had, when she first sensed the shift in the air.

It was subtle; like a door opening at the other end of the room and a fresh breeze flowing in for a few seconds. It calmed her immediately, her shoulders relaxed and she let herself take a deep breath and savour the moment. 

Except, her lungs didn’t fill with just warm air smelling of leather and antiquities, the scent that usually filled the Institute’s halls. No, instead, her nostrils tingled at the faint flowery smell, lavender if she had to guess. And there was something else, something her tired mind couldn’t quite place…

Her eyes scanned the room in an attempt to locate the source of the change, but nothing stood up, nothing caught her attention, nothing made her eyes linger. So she just returned her attention back to her ex-classmate’s story, or at least tried to. Whatever he was talking about seemed interesting, but it was nowhere close to the tingling feeling at the back of her neck, nowhere close to the soft stirring in the bottom of her stomach.

A few more seconds passed before Betty leant closer to her parabatai. “Arch?”

“Hmm?” he asked, his head snapping to her. 

“Have you noticed…” Betty started, but her voice trailed off mid-sentence as she realised that the room felt eerily quiet. The loud chatter was gone and replaced by occasional small noises coming from the sides of the room.

Betty’s eyes did another drag through the crowd, looking for what she had skipped over the first time.

And this time, she didn’t miss the grey woolen beanie nearby the entrance.

Betty could feel her heart all the way up in her throat, her cheeks pooling with heat and redness. Slowly, but surely, her mind started blanking out -  _ what was he doing here? _

On an instinct, she started to move, quickly pushing her way through the crowds of people, of whom every person’s eyes were trained on Jughead. After all, the Clave officials from Riverdale rarely came to contact with Downworlders, as they were not permitted to enter the Nephilim’s capital. So, seeing a warlock walk into the Institute must have piqued all of their attentions.

And so did Betty’s. 

She stopped once she had passed all of the people, once she was standing in the front of Ops Centre and nothing but a few meters of empty space separated her from Jughead.

Her breath got hitched at the sight of him - he didn’t look any different from any other day, the ever-present flannel tied around his waist, the worn-out jean jacket hung at his shoulders, the beanie sitting snugly on top of his hair. However, there was something about his posture, something about the way his skin glowed softly and a tentative smile played on his lips that made him seem completely different. A bit happier perhaps, a bit more hopeful.

Betty traced her eyes along his body shamelessly, until they lingered on the small bouquet in his hand, the bright yellows and greens in contrast to the dark colours of his clothes. She didn’t give herself the time or space to think about its significance more, but her heart skipped a beat nonetheless.

Their eyes locked together and Betty felt as if her whole world was slowly set aflame. But the burning wasn’t painful or hurtful, it wasn’t destructive. No, it was calming and cleansing, a warm caress against her skin. 

The longing in her heart intensified, the ache and the dream desperately trying to break through.

She was about to do her best to push those emotions down, to try to stifle the yearning, but…

_ Why was she doing that? _

_ Why was she stopping herself from giving in, why was she stopping herself from pursuing happiness? _

Betty’s heart made a decision, a decision that stopped her from overthinking, a decision that unfroze her legs and carried her the rest of the distance that separated her from Jughead.

Jughead raised his eyebrow ever-so-slightly as he saw the determination in Betty’s step as she crossed the rest of the space that separated them and the hesitant smile on his lips transformed into an amused smirk, one that hadn’t played on his lips for way too long. 

His mouth opened a bit, as if he was about to say something, but no words came out.

No words came out, because Betty’s hands grabbed onto the lapels of his jacket, fisting the thick denim fabric in her palms tightly as she pulled him closer, bringing their lips together in a crash.

For all she cared, the world could have stopped right then and there, the Institute could get swarmed by demons or a portal to Hell itself could open up right next to them, but none of those things would be enough to tear her away from the softness of Jughead’s lips pressed against hers, from the spark that was set aflame where their lips met. 

Jughead must have been shocked for a short second, but he melted into the kiss almost immediately, chasing after her lips, copying and complementing her movements so effortlessly as if he was born to do so, as if all four centuries of his life were just a build-up to this. 

Betty could feel the faint taste of burnt sugar tingling on her lips, a smell that had always reminded her of Jughead and his magic, that had always reminded her of safety and understanding.  _ Of love. _

She pulled back for a second, disconnecting their lips to catch her breath and ground herself a bit, because a few moments more and she might have ended up getting too carried away and floating away. But when she realised that the ground underneath her feet felt as solid as ever and the rough denim of Jughead’s jacket still firmly in her palms, a relieved sigh fell from her lips. Her eyes jumped up to meet Jughead’s, only to find his to be glued to still be glued to her lips.

It was all it took for her to lean back in, to bring their lips together once again, this time in a less of a crash and more of an invitation,  _ a promise _ .

A promise that she was going to try, a promise that this is what her heart craved the most, that this is what she dreamt about. A promise that she was going to put herself out there, that she was going to follow her heart, if it meant that he’d be there, waiting for her at the end of the line. 

Because she already knew, that it was his embrace that her heart would lead her to, since she had given it to him a long time ago.

The truth was that she didn’t want to stop, that she couldn’t get enough of the warmth that radiated off Jughead’s body, embracing her lovingly as she pressed closer to his chest. Of his breath, tingling her lightly as he exhaled through his nose. Of his arms that have made their way to her hips, pulling her impossibly close, holding her as if his life depended on it. 

There was something quite magical about that moment, even though there were dozens of eyes glued to them, watching one of the most intimate moments of her life shamelessly.

_ Oh, the people, the Clave - _

Betty pulled away for the second time and pretended not to notice the way Jughead’s lips chased after her, asking for more, begging for more. And if she were to be honest, there was nothing she’d rather do than give into that pleading look on his face, but she couldn’t; at least not in front of the entire Shadowhunter royalty.

“Hey,” he whispered then, his voice hoarse and breathless, as if he had just ran a marathon. Betty’s heart was beating in a similar way.

“Hey,” she answered with a small smile. 

She slowly lifted her eyes to meet his, finding herself melting the moment they met, losing all sense of focus or composure. Nothing seemed to matter anymore, nothing but those breathtaking blues.

Somebody behind them cleared a throat and Betty blinked, quickly returning back to reality.

“Talk?” Jughead asked simply, his head falling slightly to the side.

“Yeah,” Betty nodded and without thinking about the action twice, she took his hand into hers and quickly dragged him away from the Operations Centre, through the visibly less crowded corridors, until they reached the secluded Winter Gardens in the Institute’s heart.

Neither of them said anything once they were alone, Jughead playing with the flowers in his hands and Betty pulling on a stray thread of her sweater’s sleeve. There were so many things she wanted to say, pushing against her chest and throat, desperately trying to get out; and yet as soon as one of them fought its way to the tip of her tongue, she swallowed, pushing it back down. Because nothing seemed to be right - nothing seemed to be enough - to describe the feelings that Jughead evoked in her, to describe the rhythm that her heart kept beating out whenever in his presence.

But she had to start as the silence kept eating her up. “Jug…” 

He raised his hand and when the sunlight caught on his rings, Betty’s mind blanked, too enchanted by the sight in front of her. “Please, let me go first,” he said softly, the sentence more of a beg than a request.

She nodded lightly and waited as he took a deep breath and got to explaining.

“I almost didn’t come here today, thinking that giving you space to make a decision you truly want, thinking I was allowing you to put yourself first. But then, I realised that I wasn’t doing that - that I was actually doing quite the opposite,” he said, his voice slowly gaining on confidence as he progressed. “That by not fighting for you, that by not letting you know how I felt, I was taking an option away from you.”

Betty’s breath hitched in her throat and words started pushing out, but she didn’t let them, not without letting Jughead finish first.

“So, this is me, fighting for you, fighting for the possibility of having a future with you, fighting for our  _ love _ ,” he said. The last word lingered in the thick air, filling all of their surroundings, embracing them with the softest of hugs. 

“You deserve everything, my dear, and I’ll support you, no matter what. You’ll do so much good with the job, I know it - you’ll inspire thousands upon thousands. And I’d love nothing more than to be by your side, wherever it takes you. If you’d have me, of course.”

Betty blinked once, twice, before really letting his words sink in. And it was only then that she felt the breath get sucked out of her lungs, realising the gravity that his words, his  _ promise _ , held.

That the man standing in front of her was willing to sacrifice everything, his home, his career, his life; all of it just for a chance with her. That he was offering to follow her anywhere around the world the job might take her, no matter how hostile or dangerous the environment might be. That he was giving her the power to make a decision, that he was putting his life in his hands without asking for anything in return.

The small smile that had been plastered on her face widened, until she was full-on grinning. Happiness flew through her veins in ways that it hadn’t for the longest time; replacing the fear and anxiety that usually resided there.

_ Was this what being selfish felt like?  _

_ Or was it just love? _

She didn’t know the answer - or maybe she did, but there wasn’t enough time for her to figure it out, as the words she had been stifling out finally bubbled to the surface, slipping from her mouth easily.

“I am not going anywhere.”

A moment of confusion passed on Jughead’s face, his eyebrows raising and eyes narrowing in question. “But the job-”

“But the job doesn’t matter,” she finished for him. “Or, it does, but it’s not what I want.”

“Betty-”

“No, let me finish,” Betty interrupted him again, placing her hand gently on his shoulder. “The job is an amazing opportunity and something Shadow World desperately needs, there’s no arguing about that. But I thought about it, after our phone call and I’ve come to the conclusion that the proposed plan wasn’t the most effective one. So, I talked to the Consul and we’ve agreed to work on a new one.”

“What does that mean?” Jughead asked, his voice low, but still full of anticipation.

“It means that going to the Institutes and attempting to fix them one by one would be a rather ineffective and tedious task, so instead, we’re going to be organising seminars, trainings and simulations in Riverdale and in a handful of cities around the world, always ensuring that there’ll be somebody to portal the Downworlders in for any of the sessions they’d like to attend. And on top of that, we’ll work out ways to make sure that the new wave of Shadowhunters, the one that is currently being trained, comes out already prepared and free of prejudices that the Clave used to drill into our heads since we could read.”

Jughead gasped for his breath couple of times, his eyes soft and glassy and his entire expression radiating off a single word:  _ proud. _

“That sounds like a lot of work,” he said carefully as he processed all of the information. 

“I’ll have people helping me,” Betty shrugged, “Veronica was very eager to get as involved as possible and same goes for Archie. And we’ve come to an agreement that it’s going to be enough for me to oversee the whole thing from here, so I can focus on my other job…” her voice trailed off at the end. She bit into her lip from stopping the huge smile from appearing on her lips, her eyes jumping to Jughead’s as she expectedly waited for him to ask, to guess, to pick up on the unfinished sentence.

And as expected, he did. “Your other job?” he asked.

“This Institute has belonged to the Blossoms for decades, but both Penelope and Clifford feel too old for the job and Cheryl doesn’t want a constant reminder of Jason,” Betty started her explanation, waiting for the moment that the realisation would dawn on him.

It didn’t, so she continued, picking her words more carefully and speaking them more slowly, giving Jughead a chance to guess. “And you know, they have always considered me to be a part of their fam-”

“They gave you the Institute,” Jughead said suddenly, the words slipping out of his mouth on an exhale.

“Well, technically, they didn’t  _ give  _ it to me, they merely put me in charge-” 

She didn’t finish the rest of her sentence, because Jughead’s lips crashed against her with such force that she might as well have forgotten how to speak altogether, the sheer passion and pride blowing her away.

The kiss could have lasted for an eternity and still Betty would say that it was too short, too little. That it did not make up for all of the times she wanted to do it, for all of the horrors and tragedies they had to endure to get to this point. But then, she would also say that this was the best way to slowly move past them and pave the way to a better, a brighter future.

Future, where the two of them could be together.

Their lips disconnected, but their foreheads stayed pressed together, not quite wanting to break the moment just yet. “So, you’re staying in New York?” Jughead asked tentatively, his voice laced with softness and hope.

“I’m staying in New York,” she agreed, needing to say her the words aloud.

Jughead licked his lips before speaking again, the motion making his tongue lightly run across her lips. “With me?”

Shivers ran down her spine. “With you.”

The words filled the room, even though they were for nobody’s but their ears.

Or maybe they were for everybody’s - because, at the end, Betty didn’t care. She didn’t care who would know, she didn’t care what people would think.

There was something completely enchanting and magical about giving into your dreams, about following your heart - the euphoria that followed was strangely addictive, like the best drug ever. It made her heart race, her knees tremble and her breath disappear. It made her crave more, it made her question how had she gone her entire life while denying this experience from herself.

The truth was, that she wasn’t sure. 

Maybe, she didn’t think she deserved it - because of a screwed up mission, because of a messed up paperwork, because of a random slip-up. Because she didn’t put in one hundred and ten percent every day, because she didn’t do everything and more to bring glory to her family name. Because of the crimes her mother committed, because of the way she stained their bloodline forever.

Maybe, she didn’t think she was worthy of a feeling like this - because this utter joy surely must have been reserved solely for saints and angels. There was no way that somebody as ordinary as her, somebody who never came first, somebody who had gotten so used to hiding in the background, in the shadows, was worthy of recognition of this magnitude, was worthy of happiness this deep, was worthy of love this pure.

Or maybe, she simply didn’t think something like this was even possible - that it was possible for her days not to be just an indistinguishable mess of greys and rain, of late night patrols and bloody missions, of stacks and stacks of paperwork and long hours of staring into the bright monitors. That there was a light, that there was colour fighting its way through, into her life. And that that light would present itself in the form of golden sparks, of silvery rings, of blue eyes and pink lips.

The truth was, it didn’t matter.

Because, now, standing in the arms of the man she slowly came to love, nothing seemed to matter.

It was as if they were back in his loft, leaning against the railing and overlooking the giant that was New York City, a giant that from that particular balcony looked small enough to fit into her palm. Now, in this moment, all the way across the city, in the small winter garden in the middle of an abandoned church, a similar feeling blossomed in her chest.

There would be hardships - she was sure of it.

She knew Shadowhunters and their mindsets all too well - she would be foolish to think they would understand what she had done. She and Jughead would be the topic of Riverdale’s gossip for weeks to come, every Shadowhunter whispering about that  _ Cooper girl who kissed a warlock in front of the entire Clave. _ The looks they would receive would be combination of astoundment, of pride, of disgust. 

They would stop her at every corner and ask her _why did you do it? Why did you pick_ a Downworlder, a warlock _?_

If somebody asked her that question a few weeks ago, she would laugh it off and say it would never happen; if they asked her a couple of days ago, cold sweat would drench her and she’d stumble over her own words, saying she didn’t know what they were talking about.

But now, she knew. And the thing was, it had nothing to do with his origins, with his race, with the blood that flowed in his veins.

She didn’t choose him because of those things, she didn’t fall in love with him because of any of them.

No, she gave him her heart because he stood by her side, because he listened to her, because he supported her. Because he had a heart of gold and a smile that could light up any room that entered. Because of his wisdom and kindness.

Because he was Jughead and that was all that she could see, all that mattered.

Because with him by her side, the world always seemed to be a bit better place, a place with less shadows and more light, a place where a possibility of happiness was so close she could almost taste it on the tip of her tongue.

Deep down, she knew that she had always dreamt of a place like that.

And now, that dream wasn’t just deep down anymore, no.

It was all around her, slowly bleeding to the reality.

Slowly becoming the reality.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've promised myself that i wouldn't get sentimental now and here, but i've had a few drinks and i'm definitely not going to be able to keep that promise 🙈 but the thing is, i love all of you and this story so much and i can't believe that we've finally reached this point. wowwowwow. can't wait to read through your comments and see your reactions!
> 
> and see you on sunday with the epilogue!! 💕
> 
> p.s. maggie, you're the star for betaing, as always, thank you so much.


	24. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please, enjoy this uncharacteristically rather fluffy epilogue, which is a handful of ideas i wanted to put in but never found space for.
> 
> or, alternatively, _betty and jughead finally get to go on that date we've all been waiting for 130k+ words._

Betty was just about to slip through the glass doors into the lobby of Jughead’s building, when the corner of her eye caught an unexpected movement, the Shadowhunter in her pushing her entire attention towards its source.

There was an old lady not that far away, with three rather heavy looking grocery bags hanging from her hands, heading towards Betty. Or, well, towards the entrance in which Betty was currently standing. She didn’t need to look at the woman for long before coming across the desperation and tiredness that each of her movements radiated with, with how her thin arms seemed almost at the point of being torn out by the heavily looking bags.

“Let me help you,” Betty said without thinking, quickly walking towards the woman and outstretching her arms in an offer.

“Oh, you don’t have to my dear, it’s quite alright,” the woman shook her head.

“Nonsense,” Betty quickly replied. “I have more energy than I know what to do with, so please, you’d be doing me a favour.”

The woman laughed gently before resigning and accepting Betty’s offer, slipping the plastic bags into her hands. The tired and worn out posture of the lady wasn’t lying - the bags were quite heavy. Well, not to Betty, but to a regular woman like her definitely. 

“Have you moved in recently? I don’t remember ever seeing you around,” the woman wondered out loud as they entered the building.

“No, I’m just visiting somebody,” Betty answered with a soft smile, her thoughts immediately running to Jughead and the date he had promised to take her on after their kiss in front of the entire Institute the other day.

“Who’s the lucky guy?” the woman asked then, her question heating up Betty’s cheeks. She quickly ducked her head at the attempt to hide it, but the woman’s lively laughter implied that she noticed anyways.

They entered the elevator and the woman pressed the highest number, sending the elevator straight to the floor Jughead lived on. It took Betty only a second to realise that apart from Jughead, there was only one other apartment on his floor, so this lovely old lady surely must have been his neighbour.

“I suppose you know Jughead?” she asked carefully.

The woman’s face lit up immediately at the mention of the man’s name and a part of Betty filled up with warmth at the thought that she managed to invoke such a happy smile on her face. “Well, it looks like I’m going to have to scold that boy for keeping you away from me,” the woman said with a playful tone.

“You two are close?” Betty asked as she took a good look at the woman, quickly scanning her entire body underneath the weak elevator light. She had grey hair and kind eyes, face littered with wrinkles and yet, still looking somewhat youthful. Nothing about her stood out in any particular way; she seemed to be as mundane as they came.

“He takes me to the farmer’s market every second Sunday and we get together to play chess at least once a week. He always comes up with these ridiculous stories about people from past and pretends he was really there and I always play along because it seems to make him so happy,” the woman gushed and Betty couldn’t stop a smile from settling on her face.  _ Of course Jughead does that _ .

Just as the elevator came to a stop, Betty leaned forward, moving herself closer to the woman before speaking up. “I do the exact same thing,” she said in a low tone, as if sharing a secret with a close friend.

The old lady in front of her erupted into a fist of giggles as she exited through the elevator doors. “I’m sure you know this, but he’s a really great guy,” she sighed and gave Betty a tight-lipped smile.

“I know,” Betty nodded immediately, not even having to think about it. 

She had seen Jughead, the real Jughead, over and over again during the many nights she had spent over at his place planning how to take down Lodge and his Gargoyles. It was when the conversation slipped from battle strategies into a comfortable soft chatter about their dreams and memories, about the books they like to read over and over again and favourite spots around New York they visited whenever they needed to be uplifted; it was when the conversation slowly grew from a casual small talk between friends into something deeper, when the man in front of her stopped being Jughead Jones, the High Warlock of Brooklyn and simply became Jug, a man who travelled the entire world in a pursuit of the best burger - it was then that Betty realised that there simply wasn’t a bad part about him; that every single bone of his body, every single drop of his blood, were pure and good.

The woman pushed the door to her apartment open, the squeaking noise pulling Betty out of her thoughts. “Please, come in for a minute, I rarely get any visitors.”

Betty’s eyes quickly jumped between the invitingly looking apartment, the old lady in front of her and her grocery bags still in her hands before finding herself nodding, accepting the offer. There would be no harm in dropping the bags in and chatting for a while longer, would there? “Yeah, okay,” Betty said, giving the woman a small smile as she entered her apartment. 

It was similar to Jughead’s in many ways, but yet, it felt completely different. Both of them were open-plan and full of antiquities, but unlike Jughead’s, hers didn’t feature an amazing balcony overlooking New York Betty grew to love so dearly. It still had the same homey vibe that made Betty’s entire body relax, but once she took a deep breath, her lungs didn’t fill with the smell of burnt sugar that lingered in the air as an aftereffect of Jughead’s magic nor with the soft scent of lavender, one that always seemed to surround the man wherever he went.

“Where shall I put these?” Betty asked, lifting her arms slightly to draw attention to the bags still in her hands.

“Just on the counter would be great, dear,” the woman replied instantly, pointing towards the empty place. The kitchen looked almost exactly the same as Jughead’s, apart from the fact that unlike his, this one was clean and void of the random books and artefacts that always seemed to find their way into Jughead’s.

Betty placed the bags on the designated spot before turning around to face the lady. Somehow, in the handful of seconds she had let the woman out of her sight, she had managed to find a plate full of blueberry muffins and push them towards Betty. “For your help,” she said simply and once her lips formed a smile that Betty would without a single doubt call the kindest on the Earth, there was no way Betty could decline that offer.

Her fingers reached for one and she tentatively took a small bite. “Wow, these taste amazing,” Betty said, barely finished chewing.

“Thank you,” the lady beamed at her compliment. “They are Jughead’s favourite. You should take a couple of them with you; it’s a certain way to his heart,” she added with a chuckle and not even waiting for Betty’s answer, she picked a handful of the cup-sized heavens and offering them to Betty.

“Thank you, I’m sure he’ll be beside himself with happiness,” Betty chuckled lightly.

“Oh, he definitely will. That boy could eat for days and still not be full,” the woman laughed. “Well then, I won’t keep you any longer - I’m sure he’s waiting for you eagerly already,” she smiled kindly. “Thank you for coming in and entertaining the old lady for few minutes. My son rarely stops by anymore and all of my friends are too dull.”

“It was lovely meeting you,” Betty said as she got up from her chair, with her hands full of muffins.

“Maybe I’ll talk Jughead into taking you to the farmer's market with us next time. I swear on God’s name that place always has the freshest produce! And it stays like that for days, not like the cheap stuff you buy at supermarkets,” the woman rambled, releasing an annoyed sigh followed by an eye roll at the end. “I’m sure you’d love it.”

“That’d be nice,” she said wishfully. The tone surprised her; she hadn’t even realised how much she craved that, that sense of almost mundanity, something that for her entire life seemed like such a distant and unachievable dream, she didn’t even allow herself to properly consider an option of something like that becoming her life.  _ But now, with Jughead, she could almost feel it at her fingertips. _

“I’ll work my magic,” the woman laughed, causing Betty to chuckle on the irony of the situation. 

Betty was already out of the doors when she stopped in her tracks and turned around, her eyes meeting the old lady’s soft gaze. “I’m sorry, it just occurred to me - I hadn’t even asked for your name.”

The woman laughed again and even though the action seemed to create even more wrinkles on her already wavy face, it also made her look at least 10 years younger. “It’s Agathe, my dear.”

“Betty,” she offered in return.

“Well then, Betty, off you go to see your man!” Agathe ushered her and Betty didn’t even think about the meaning behind her words.

Only once her knuckles hit the dark wood of Jughead’s door, a sudden realisation dawned on her; the woman really thought that the two of them were together and not for once did Betty feel the need to correct her. Because, it wasn’t just a dream she wasn’t allowed to dream anymore, no, it was a reality now and it couldn’t have felt more perfect and just…  _ Right _ .

“Hey! You’re here!” Jughead interrupted her stream of consciousness by opening door. He immediately reached out to pull her in, but his eyes widened once he noticed the muffins that Betty held in her hands.

“Are those-“ he paused to sniff with his nose a little, “-are those Agathe’s muffins?” His eyes twinkled with an excited spark.

“Yes, they are,” Betty hummed, stepping into his apartment and offering him one of them.

“What?” he asked confusedly, but as soon as he took the first bite, the tension and questions seemed to disappear from his face with nothing but pure satisfaction replacing them.

“Her grocery bags looked a bit too heavy, so I offered to help her carry them,” Betty shrugged.

“And of course, Agathe being her trusty old self, just invited you in for a chat and muffins.”

“That’s exactly what happened,” Betty nodded and Jughead released an exasperated sigh, quickly followed by a chuckle.

“I’ll have to improve her wards or her trustworthiness will come back and bite her in the ass one day,” Jughead rolled his eyes. “Let me just put these away real quick-” he said, snapping his fingers in the air and making all of the muffins disappear, “-and we can get going.”

Betty’s eyes lingered at his fingers for a second before snapping out of it and instead of focusing on the residual golden sparks, she took in his whole presence, shamelessly drinking the view in. The ankle-high boots nicely complimented his dark jeans and the blue button down (which upon closer examination turned out to be plaid) brought his eyes out in a breathtaking way. And even though the outfit wasn’t anything extra or even that much different from what she saw him wearing on any different occasion, it suddenly made her feel very conscious of her a bit-worn out sweater. She should have borrowed something from Veronica of Cheryl-

“Shall we?” Jughead’s voice interrupted her thoughts. He outstretched his hand, offering it to Betty to take it into her own. She hesitated for a second, her brain involuntarily jumping back to the thoughts that plagued her mind just seconds ago, but somehow, she forced them down and with a small smile accepted his hand.

“By the way, you look stunning tonight,” Jughead said with a kind smile and for a moment, Betty really considered a possibility that he was able to read her mind.

But she knew that wasn’t possible and the realisation just sent a wave of heat into her cheeks, making her head drop in an attempt to hide a blush that spread across her face. The action prompted a small laugh from Jughead, the sound only deepening the redness.

_ Change the topic now, or you’ll combust from blushing- _

“You know, she wants you to invite me to the farmer’s market with you,” Betty said as casually as possible, returning to the parting words Agathe shared with her. “She said it always has the freshest products and that they stay that way for days… Is that your doing?”

“What do you think?” Jughead asked, his eyebrow wingling up at Betty. He didn’t leave her space to answer, quickly moving to touch on the rest of her statement. “And of course she wants that,” he snickered, shaking his head playfully, “she must have loved you.” 

Betty’s heart swelled at his words as they entered the elevator, both of them automatically leaning against the opposite walls, their eyes trained on each other.

“I didn’t think of you as of farmer’s market kind of person,” Betty said, deciding to ignore the second part of his comment, for the well-being of her already frantically beating heart. Her head felt to a side as she carefully scanned the warlock in front of her. “Or you know what? Scratch that; you’re exactly that kind of person.”

Jughead laughed at her words, his whole face lighting up in the process. “Yeah? And what other kind of person am I?” Jughead asked teasingly, but the way his eyes lingered on her was anything but casual. She could feel his eyes right in her soul, as if they could see every single part of her, as if she was a book he knew by heart.

But even through all of that, there was still a part of her that wanted to answer his question.

So, she licked her lips and started. “You’re the kind of person who’d move world for the ones he cares about,” Betty said cautiously, but even that short of a statement was enough to make Jughead’s entire posture change, lightly angling his body towards her as if every single cell of him was eager to hear her answer. “You take time out of your every week to spend some time with her to improve her day and give her something to be excited about. You really care about her, like one would of their own mother,” Betty said, not even realising the words that left her mouth until they did.

She quickly opened her mouth to start apologising for the straightforwardness and well, mentioning his mother, but Jughead’s small laugh interrupted her. “I suppose you’re right,” Jughead said. “And she’s actually Pea’s mom, but I get your point,” he added.

The elevator dinged as the words fell from Betty’s lips. “Wait, what?”

Jughead motioned for Betty to exit and following right after her, not saying anything until they were out of the building, the cold brisk night air blowing in their faces.

“It all started after… well, you can guess when,” he said softly as they started walking down the street, their shoulders bumping together with each step. “Sweet Pea started spending more and more time studying, so I made sure to check up on her once in a while. Just regular stuff like ensuring she always had fresh groceries, stopping by for a chat when I knew he wouldn’t be able to make it. She used to live in this really old run-down building all the way across the town, so when an opportunity presented itself, I moved her here and then our meetings became a pretty regular thing,” Jughead shrugged.

“An opportunity presented itself?” Betty asked, her eyebrows shooting up. She sneaked a quick look at the man next to her, noticing his smug smile immediately.

“Alright, I might have created one,” Jughead admitted.

“What did you do?” Betty couldn’t hide the interest in her tone and Jughead surely picked up on it.

“Let’s just say that my apartment used to be a lot bigger,” Jughead said.

“You created an apartment for her?” Betty asked, not even trying to hide her shock. 

“She’s the only person who has ever beaten me in chess - and that’s saying something, as I knew Bobby Fischer in his prime years!” Jughead tried defending himself, but Betty couldn’t stifle her laugh.

“So you moved her across the town for chess?” she asked in between laughs.

“Hey, stop judging me!” Jughead said in what seemed like an attempt to sound serious, but the amusement was clear in his voice. “She was lonely and my heart couldn’t handle it; sue me.”

“I can understand that,” Betty nodded, her mind returning to the memory of the lovely lady she had met just minutes ago. Jughead didn’t say anything at that, just bumped the back of his hand into hers a couple of times. Even that small and casual contact was enough to set off butterflies in Betty’s stomach and when he reached over to intertwine their fingers, it was like a volcano of them erupted inside of her.

“How did you even meet Sweet Pea?” Betty asked after a few moments of silence, after the warmth of his hand in hers became a constant she couldn’t imagine letting off, after the party in her stomach calmed down.

Jughead took a moment to think about his answer, humming lightly before starting to talk. “Ethel told me about him. She always checks every new kid for presence of any demonic energies and if she happens to find a warlock kid, she always tries to help as much as possible. Life can get hard for the child if they don’t know how to control their magic,” Jughead explained softly. “There aren’t that many warlocks being born, at least not anymore, so we try to help the new ones as much as we possibly can. Ethel offered Agathe some sort of mundane excuse, saying that it was absolutely necessary for Sweet Pea to attend classes for enhanced learning in order to ensure he performs well in school as well as later in life, which is how I got involved; I met with him three times a week and taught him everything about how to control his magic, how to keep his glamour from falling, how to make use of his powers.”

Betty listened silently as Jughead spoke kindly about teaching his friend, about basically raising him and she couldn’t stop her mind from remembering a conversation from a few weeks prior, about how he did the same for his werewolf friend. Her heart swelled with pride and happiness - he was probably the most compassionate and caring person she ever had a chance to meet, offering his service and help to everybody in need.

“Why do you do it?” The question slipped from Betty’s lips without thinking. “I mean - you help everybody around you and correct me if I’m wrong, I’m pretty sure like half of it isn’t even a part of your job,” she quickly added in an attempt to fix the stupid question.

Jughead laughed at her ramblings, but the sound died out rather fast. “I guess it’s just in my nature,” he shrugged. “But to be honest, a part of me wishes somebody did it for me. I never got to explore the possibilities provided by the mundane world while I was young; I had Jelly to look after, so I had to grow up fast. I want those kids to have a chance to experience what I have missed out on, to have the world on their palm for their taking instead of having to fight it at every step of the way. And although I think learning how to control your powers and magic on your own allows you to reach your full potential quicker, I don’t think it’s simply worth it.”

“Why?” Betty asked, genuinely interested. “What makes you think that?”

“Because it took me ten years to finally be able to hold my glamour for an entire day, something I can now teach a seven-year old in a matter of a handful of weeks,” Jughead offered. “Yes, on one hand, I think one of the reasons why my connection to magic is so strong is because nobody ever taught it to me. Almost everything I know I have learnt by trial and error, by trying over and over again until I either ran out of energy or got it right. I really believe that that slow exploration of my powers allowed me to understand them better than most warlocks ever will in their whole lifetimes. But on the other hand, it was unnecessarily hard and long process. Plus, nowadays you can learn most of the stuff from books, there’s nobody would need ever really need to go through all of that,” he explained.

“That’s understandable,” Betty hummed lightly. She was about to ask some more about the topic, when her senses picked up on something familiar, shifting her attention to her surroundings.

It didn’t take her long to realise where they were - even without the heavy rain and dozens of Downworlders and Shadowhunters around, even without the entire world spinning around her because of the strain she had been putting onto herself by pushing her powers to their limits, the red neon glow of the restaurant’s sign was unmistakable.

“In retrospect, I realise that this might not be the best spot for a first date, with what had gone down just over here, but I couldn’t imagine going anywhere else-”

“Jug, this is perfect,” Betty interrupted him quickly, placing her hand on his biceps, her thumb automatically starting to rub small circles against the soft fabric of his shirt. And maybe, if her attention wasn’t fully on the spot their bodies were touching, she wouldn’t have noticed how the muscles underneath her palm relaxed immediately, leaning into her touch just ever so slightly.

“Okay,” Jughead said slowly, probably more to himself than to her, “okay. Let’s go in then.”

He held the door open for her as they entered and once inside, his palm quickly found the small of her back, touching her lightly as he guided her towards one of the back booths, both warming Betty through the fabric of her sweater and sending shivers down her spine.

The leather bench squeaked underneath her as she slipped onto it, but the sound was drowned out by the busy noise coming from the kitchen and by the unstoppable conversation that kept going everywhere around them in the diner. To her surprise, Betty felt peaceful as she leaned back, her eyes locking with Jughead’s across their table. 

When she saw the diner, she couldn’t deny the fact that a part of her got scared; after all, this was a place frequented majorly by Downworlders and underneath the red neon lights, her black runes seemed to stand out even more prominently - but so far, there wasn’t a one nasty or rude look in her direction, nobody stopped what they were doing as they saw the two of them enter the diner, nobody seemed to care. Betty wasn’t sure if it was because of what she has done, or if it was plainly because her hand was held by the High Warlock of Brooklyn, somebody most people around here either admired or feared.

“Jughead Jones!” a cheery voice called out, “I was hoping you’d stop by soon.”

“Pop,” Jughead greeted the man that approached their table by standing up and shaking his hand. Betty let her eyes scan him quickly before copying Jug’s motions and outstretching her for Pop to shake, but instead being pulled into a warm embrace. “Pop, this is-”

“This is your lovely lady you should have introduced to me a long time ago,” Pop interrupted him.

Betty laughed and reluctantly twisted herself out of the hug. “Betty,” she said, introducing herself.

The old man just quirked his eyebrow up. “I know,” he smiled. 

Betty’s breath got hitched in her throat for a second as her heart flustered with happiness. There was something incredibly fulfilling about being recognised for something good for once, about smiles following her introductions instead of hateful frowns.

“So, what can I get you, kids?” Pop asked then, motioning them to sit down.

“Do you want to pick, or…?” Jughead asked, his voice trailing off at the end.

“Pick whatever you want, I trust you,” Betty said softly. “But can we get those chilli fries we had the last time? They were simply spectacular.”

“Your wish is my command,” Pop said, already jotting down their order. “And the rest?” he asked, turning towards Jughead, who already had a menu in his hand and quickly pointed out their order.

The man carefully wrote everything down before stashing the small notepad into his pocket. “It’ll be right up,” he smiled before heading away, but he stopped in his tracks before he could take more than a couple of steps. “I should warn you though Jug, Ricky is here tonight and he’s been asking a lot about you. I’ll try to keep him away, but-”

His sentence got interrupted by a loud scream and Betty flinched at her spot, her hands dropping too her thighs on an instinct, instinctively reaching for a knife that wasn’t there (but there were some tied to her ankle, because she’d be caught dead first before being caught weaponless). But the scream wasn’t one of horror or fear; actually, it was quite the opposite, full of happiness and joy.

“Jughead!” Ricky said as he pushed onto the bench next to Jughead, wrapping his arms around him.

“I tried to warn you,” Pop chuckled. “I’m going to get your orders into the kitchen and then lure him away, will you be alright with him for a few minutes?”

Jughead eyes darted to Betty, holding a question as clear as day, but the truth was, he didn’t have to ask. “Of course it’s alright,” she said softly, her answer widening both Jughead’s and Ricky’s smile.

“So, what’s new, Ricky?” Jughead asked the boy cheerfully while gently pushing him off his body. Ricky reluctantly let go of him after some prompting, but his smile hadn’t faltered at the slightest.

It was only once his eyes met Betty’s that the wide grin disappeared, taking Betty’s heart with it. She still could clearly recall the look he gave her back in that warehouse, one full of fear and prejudices as his eyes caught the sight of the black runes that peaked from underneath her clothes, that screamed to the entire world just how similar she was to the people who murdered his family. It didn’t matter that she tried to do good, because the prejudices and hatred went both ways and it would be equally hard to erase the distrust that flew in the veins of the Downworlders as it would be to erase the hatred that flew in the Nephilim blood.

Jughead cleared his throat, probably noticing the sudden change in Ricky’s behaviour, feeling the tension settling on their table. “Ricky?” he asked softly, gently placing his hand on the small boy’s shoulder.

Ricky opened his mouth and mentally, Betty steeled herself for the worst. “Is that the lady you told me about?” the boy asked instead.

Betty lifted her eyebrow at Jughead surprisingly. “So you talk about me behind my back?” she asked teasingly. 

“Oh yeah, he couldn’t shut up about you,” Ricky answered casually instead of Jughead. “It is so disgusting how he turns into this mush of feelings,” he added, his words followed by a pointed eyeroll. “C’mon, man up!”

This time, it was Jughead’s turn to drop his head and blush faintly and even though he tried to hide it, it didn’t escape from Betty’s attention. Warm feeling filled her stomach and her heart, but it didn’t just stay there. Instead, it pushed up and bubbled out of her throat in a form of a soft laugh. “Do you hear him, Jug? You should man up.”

Jughead rolled his eyes, but the soft smile on his lips spoke volumes. “Alright, that’s it, Ricky. Go and play somewhere else and stop scaring Betty away,” he said, pushing the boy away.

And to Betty’s surprise, the boy listened; sliding off the bench and jumping onto his feet. His movements held a certain degree of happiness to them and Betty couldn’t help but feel proud at seeing the broken boy they found in the warehouse being so carefree and at peace.

She lifted her hand slightly to wave him goodbye, but before she could do it, the boy was already running off, certainly in pursuit of another person who’d pay attention to him, since Jughead was clearly preoccupied.

“Okay, don’t take anything he says seriously, he’s just...” Jughead started, but his voice trailed off mid-sentence.

“What?” Betty asked, prompting him to continue.

“Nothing,” he just shook his head lightly. There was this stupid smile plastered on his lips and all Betty could think about in that moment was how stunning he looked and how much she wanted to kiss him and tell him that. 

“All right, keep your secrets, mister,” she chuckled lightly instead, making Jughead roll his eyes.

The conversation was then interrupted by Pop, bringing over their milkshakes and chilli fries, saying that burgers would be over in just a couple of minutes. They thanked him and waited until he left before reaching for the fries, both at the same time, their fingers to bumping together in the middle.

Betty was sure that she wasn’t the only one that was hit with an overwhelming amount of memories in that moment, remembering the last time they share those fries, the last time their fingers brushed like that. Even though it wasn’t more than a handful of weeks ago, it seemed like an eternity in Betty’s eyes.

How much have things changed since then; how much have both of them grown. 

“What’s on your mind?” Jughead asked softly, his finger running lightly at the back of her hand that still lingered by the fries.

“Change,” she offered, the single word summing up her thoughts almost perfectly.

“Care to elaborate on that?” Jughead asked. He picked a fry up and bit into it slowly, not moving his eyes from Betty for a second.

“Sure,” she hummed, leaning further into the leather bench. “I guess it was just seeing Ricky that got me to thinking that even after everything we did, I still feel like nothing is changing, that everything is still the same. And I know that hatred and prejudices like that won’t disappear just overnight, but… I don’t know what I thought. I just expected something else I guess.”

Jughead didn’t answer immediately and Betty could almost see how the wheels in his mind turned, thinking about her words. “I know it may feel like you didn’t make anything better, but trust me, you did. It’s going to be hard to see at first, but everything you’ve done, everything that pushed the Clave into giving you that job, it’s going to impact all of the Shadow World in a positive light. It’s going to be a lot of work and it’s going to be hard work, but you won’t ever be doing it alone and even that is a step in the right direction. That there are people here, in Riverdale, all around the world who share your opinions and beliefs and are willing to support your cause.”

Betty’s heart fluttered with happiness, but not enough to overpower the anxious part of her. “I suppose you’re right,” she shrugged lightly, deciding to just swipe the topic under the rug, pushing her emotions away to deal with them later.

But Jughead, Jughead had always been good at seeing right through her; he reached out, taking her hand into his and squeezing it tightly, his cold rings pushing against her warm skin. “Betts, stop worrying. No matter what happens, I’ll be by your side, supporting you. Always.”

Those words almost did the trick. Well, they successfully pushed the fear of that unknown into the background, but while doing that, they raised a completely new concern.

And logically, Betty knew that it was the stupidest thing to fear, that she had seen the way Jughead looked at her and she had enough time to understand her own feelings to know that this wasn’t just some sort of a short flame or a fleeting crush; but still, she couldn’t stop herself from worrying.

Because she had rarely seen relationships around her work out, she had rarely seen promises like that being fulfilled.

“You’re still worrying about something,” Jughead said slowly, interrupting the downwards spiral of her thoughts.

Betty sighed, closing her eyes as if in an attempt to brace herself for what she was about to say. “I’m just afraid that I’ll do something to screw this up,” she said at the end. “And I’m not sure if that’s a loss I could deal with.” The words took all of the air from her lungs with them, leaving Betty spinning, her head heavy and light at the same time.

“Why?” Jughead asked simply.

“Because…” Betty started, but was unable to push any words out. Instead, she opened her eyes and found Jughead’s, in the hope that they would hold all of the answers.

And if she were to be honest, they did - but not the kind she was expecting.

A part of her desperately wanted to find a reason to cave in, to throw all of this away and to return to her perfected routine, one that didn’t require her to step out of her comfort zone, that was safe. The truth was, that she was afraid. Afraid of letting herself go, of letting herself feel. Of falling. 

Even after their first kiss and the whole show that went along with that, with almost the entire Clave witnessing their intimate moment first hand and practically the whole Shadow World hearing about it within hours through the grapevine, there were still doubts in her. She couldn’t help it, but overthinking has always been a part of her nature - it made her a better Shadowhunter. But it also made her terrible at relationships, it made her question everything and not allow herself to trust just anybody.

But then, she supposed that if there was a person she could trust; a person she should let herself trust unconditionally, it would be the man sitting in front of her, the man who has proven over and over again how much she means to him, who was ready and willing to sacrifice anything just to get a chance with her.

“Look, I know all of this is new for you, but don’t think it isn’t new for me as well,” Jughead started once he realised Betty probably wasn’t about to continue. “I don’t do anything like this-“ he waved his hand between them, “- ever. Not with immortals, not with mundanes and especially not with Nephilim. But there’s something about you that just makes me want to try, makes me want to forget all of my rules and dive in, head first. And I know it’s stupid and crazy, because there’s still so much I don’t know about you, but a part of me desperately yearns to be with you.” Jughead paused, his hand dropping down to find Betty’s. He gently placed it over hers, the warmth and comfort immediately seeping from it and almost magically calming Betty’s thoughts. “You’ve unlocked something in me; something I haven’t felt in centuries. And I’d really like to explore it, but if you don’t feel up to it, just say the word and I won’t pressure you. Don’t think about what happened back in the Institute, don’t think about what everybody would think if we didn’t end up together. Because it isn’t their decision to make - it’s just ours. And it’s yours as much as mine.”

Betty could easily feel the honesty that laced every single of his words, that hid in the blue of his irises, that came to her as comfort in the form of his touch. And although it wasn’t enough to erase all of her fears and insecurities, it was enough for her to see that underneath all of them, this really was what her heart desired.

“I’d like to explore it as well,” Betty started slowly, picking her words carefully. “Can I ask you for something, though?”

“Go ahead,” Jughead prompted her.

“When things get hard, when I start having second thoughts and pushing you away, promise me you won’t let me? Because this -“ Betty motioned between them, copying Jughead’s motion from before, “- this feels like something worth fighting for. So please, don’t let me give up on it.”

Betty knew she was maybe asking for a bit too much. After all, who would be willing to fight for her, especially if there’s a possibility she’ll do everything to push the person away? If there’s a rather high chance that she’ll overwork herself to the bone every single day of the week, fighting for change and equality with next to no results? If it is probable that she will get frustrated over small things, frustrated over the clear lack of progress and people fighting back against her, frustrated at how unfair the world is? Who would be willing to sign themselves up for that?

But the sincere smile that appeared on Jughead’s lips was all of the reassurance she needed. “Relationships take effort, right?” he asked with a small chuckle.

“Thank you,” Betty said and smiled at him, hoping that the motion with the words could express the gratitude and happiness she felt in that moment.

And judging by the look on Jughead’s face, he understood her perfectly.

The burgers arrived at their table shortly after, but by that time they had already slipped into a comfortable discussion about their favourite movies, the heavy conversation not long forgotten, just stored away in a place in their minds that contained solved problems and promises of a nicer future, one they started building together tonight.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't even know where to begin, because, wow, i'm overwhelmed with feelings.
> 
> i still can't quite wrap my head around the fact that i've actually written this entire thing - it feels surreal every time i look at the word count that somehow, during the course of the last 5 months, i have gave birth to this story. wow. i still haven't dealt with that.
> 
> i want to thank you all; everybody who left kudos or liked my posts on tumblr, everybody who reblogged, everybody who took time to leave comment - seriously, you guys are all so fricking amazing and i don't think i would have finished it without you. 💕💕 i really hope that you don't regret investing your time into this story, because i surely don't.
> 
> and of course, as always, my gratitude goes to my darling [maggie](https://themaddestofall.tumblr.com) who betad this entire monster for me and on top of that hadn't freaked _once_ when i spammed her with dozens of messages, panicking about the stupidest things (like deciding to rewrite 30k words, because, why not). thank you, really.
> 
> hopefully, you'll hang around to read some more stories from me (no pressure though).
> 
> but seriously, thank you for all of the love and support. it means everything. 
> 
> xx lav


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